


Hindsight

by thepocketdragon



Category: Rizzoli & Isles
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-09-19 01:41:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 35
Words: 41,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9411815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepocketdragon/pseuds/thepocketdragon
Summary: After Jane leaves Paris and begins her new job at the FBI, Maura finds herself caught up in the middle of a murder investigation and, for the first time, she's on her own.A slow-burn with an actual story. Set post-finale. Eventual Rizzles.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> All original characters and ideas are my intellectual property. Rizzoli and Isles is/are the property of Tess Gerritsen and TNT.   
> Please read and review; I would love to know what you think!

**_Prologue_ **

_Help me._

 

Rachel Maloney grasped at her burning throat, eyes wide as the searing, swelling pain clawed its way up her neck, pulling at her nerves and stealing her breath.

 

_Help me._

 

Staggering across the dark hotel room, her heavy feet led her to the large wooden desk opposite her bed. She reached out, barely registering the loud _crash_ as the entire refreshment tray fell to the floor beside her. With a pencil in her hand, she steadied herself.

 

_Breathe,_ she thought.

 

_Just try to breathe._

 

The hotel-branded note paper was quickly filled with large, shaky letters. It was the only way she could guarantee her writing would be legible. It was the only thing left that she could do to save everything she had been working for.

 

The pencil dropped onto the table.

 

Rachel slipped off the chair and onto the floor, her eyes wide and dark and her skin pallid. A bruise formed where her head had hit the bed post on her way down.

 

As the dim light of the early morning bled through the heavy curtains, a loud ringing sound filled the room.

 

Click.

 

Voicemail.

 

Click.

 

Speak.

 

“Rachel, if you have information, you need to call us. Let us protect you. You’re not safe.”

 

Click.

 

Silence.

 


	2. Collioure

It is a terrible thing to be lonely in such a beautiful place.

 

Pressing her lips to the glass of deep red Grenache held delicately in her hand, Maura Isles let out a sigh before taking a long drink.

 

The sun, just beginning to set, cast out a warm, golden glow. The light brought life and colour to the pastel-painted buildings and terracotta rooftops that arced a serene Mediterranean pool of azure blue.

 

Behind her seat in the bay, families chattered as children danced along the cobbled grey streets to the sounds woven into the warm summer air. A pair of musicians, armed with well-loved acoustic guitars, played in perfect harmony on the steps of the old castle.  

 

A young couple, hand in hand, walked along the rocky beach, the still-warm sea lapping at their bare toes as they smiled, eyes firmly locked on one another.

 

Maura closed her eyes and took another drink.

 

Yes. Loneliness was a truly terrible thing.

 

It had been exactly six weeks since she had left Boston. Since she had left her medical examiner’s office in the (hopefully) capable hands of her assistant in order to escape to France and finish her novel.

 

It had been six weeks and she hadn’t written a single word.

 

Instead, after her best friend had produced her own first class ticket on Maura’s flight, her leave of absence had become a vacation full of adventure: sightseeing, galleries, mountains of food, glorious scenery and, of course, plenty of wine.

 

It had truly been the trip of a lifetime. But, as Jane left to board her flight back to the US and her new FBI career, Maura had found herself painfully alone.

 

Paris was too busy for her without Jane. The noise of the city seemed to block her mind; she couldn’t think properly with so much going on. The idea of returning to Boston early, still without a finished novel, was out of the question, and so Maura had travelled further south.

 

Collioure was the perfect place for Maura to recuperate from her month of non-stop tourism. It had always been a favourite destination of her parents’ and she had spent numerous childhood summers strolling through the town’s winding, medieval streets, losing herself in the colours and smells of the Mediterranean.

 

Countless artists had been inspired by this place. Maura hoped, perhaps foolishly, that this beautiful town would inspire her too.

 

But, for the third night running, she sat, uninspired, with only a bottle of wine for company.

 

Each sip brought her closer to peace, but a bottle was never going to be enough.

 

A shrill ringing broke the serenity of the dusk-lit harbour.

 

Surprised by the noise, it took Maura a moment to recognise the sound of her own telephone ringing in her purse.

 

“This is Maura Isles.” She answered professionally, her American accent sounding clipped and harsh after weeks of speaking romantic, lyrical French.

 

“Maura. Thank goodness you answered.”

 

It took her a second to register the voice emanating from the phone in her hand. A voice from so long ago. A voice usually so cheerful, now full of fear.

 

“Harriet?” Maura struggled to hide her surprise. “Is everything okay?”

 

“No. No it’s not. I’m sorry if I woke you- I’ve never been good with time zones- but I didn’t know who else to call. Something terrible has happened.”

 

Maura leaned back in her seat and let the woman tell her story. Everything she said was, by habit, carefully stored in her mind.

 

“Rachel, Rachel Maloney from the university. She’s… Oh, god. She was supposed to be at an event, giving a speech but then the police found me and she… Oh God.”

 

“Breathe, Harriet” Maura reassured her friend. “I’m listening.”

 

“She’s dead, Maura.”

 

“Oh. I’m sorry. That’s terrible news.”

 

Maura had spent almost all of her adult life around death. While most people were repulsed, terrified, by the subject, Maura found herself at ease. The dead had stories, families, and it was up to her to tell them. She had always found her job easy: she could detach herself from the subject and simply rely on science. It was easy to be objective when she had no idea how it felt to love someone and then lose them.

 

Until everything changed. Until Boston. Until Jane.

 

“Maura, I need your help.” Harriet’s shaky voice brought Maura back to reality.

 

“Harriet, I’m currently on a leave of absence and I’m employed by the state of Massachusetts so I’m not sure how I can… As a medical examiner I have no…”

 

“She asked for me, Maura.” Harriet’s statement stopped Maura in her tracks.

 

“She asked for you?”

 

“Yes. She left a note… on… on the side. They found it after she, you know, passed. She wrote my name. That’s why the police came to my office.”

 

“Harriet, was it suicide? Or murder? Are you saying you’re a suspect?”

 

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.” Harriet’s reply was assured and Maura was certain she was being honest. “But I’m scared, and I could really do with a friend who knows how all this stuff works. I have no idea what is going on and… I could do with some help making sense of things.”

 

“Well, I can certainly do that.” Maura let herself smile at the idea of being a friend. It was still something relatively new to her; the idea of genuine friendship had evaded her for so long. Despite the circumstances, Harriet was an old friend in need. She would do whatever she could do help her.

 

“How quickly can you get to Oxford?” Harriet asked quietly.

 

“I’ll be on the next flight to London. I should be with you by morning.”


	3. The Mortuary

Harriet Morgan had always been a headstrong woman.

 

After graduating from Boston Cambridge University with a master’s degree in history, she had been offered the chance to complete her doctorate at Oxford. Her doctoral thesis had been published to critical acclaim and the faculty had asked her to stay on as a lecturer. She had then begun the journey to becoming one of the youngest professors in the country.

 

Her life had been everything she had planned, exactly the way she had pictured it.

 

Until now.

 

As Maura approached her, dragging her odd, tortoise shell suitcase through the concourse of Oxford train station, she felt relief rush through her body. Delicate arms were pulled around her and Harriet Morgan let herself sink into the warm embrace of her friend.

 

“Hi.” Maura whispered, her thumb running a reassuring line back and forth over Harriet’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

 

Harriet pulled away and shook her head, absentmindedly bringing her hand up to wipe the tears that hadn’t stopped flowing since the day before.

 

“I’m just so relieved to see you.”

 

Maura took a moment to study her friend; a woman she had not seen in ten years or more. Harriet’s dark eyes were still full of the same youthful determination Maura remembered from the last time they had met, but she could sense the sadness behind the façade. Her mousy hair was shorter than it had been, now sitting in waves that just brushed her cardigan-covered shoulders. As Harriet turned her head to wipe her eyes once more, Maura smiled as the light caught the silver stud pierced through the right side of her nose. The stud had taken the place of the large ring that had once sat there (a sign of defiance against her stuffy parents); Maura felt an odd sense of relief when she saw it. Harriet hadn’t changed one bit.

 

“Maura? Do you need to freshen up first or are you okay to come with me to…”

 

“To the mortuary? We can go straight there if that’s what you want.” Maura searched Harriet’s eyes for any indication that she needed a break, but her gaze was steadfast.

 

“They found her ID, but they need me to do a formal identification. Her parents are… well, it’s just me.”

 

The car ride was quiet. Maura gazed out the window, the famous dreaming spires dotting the distance as they drove away from the tourist-heavy city and out towards the suburban hospital mortuary.

 

“I don’t know how you do it.” Harriet spoke quietly. “I’m so scared.”

 

Maura reached over, and grasped Harriet’s shaking hand. “I’m here to help you, okay? We’ll do this together.”

 

Reaching into the pocket of her jeans, Harriet passed a red ten-pound note to the taxi driver as the car pulled up outside a dull-looking building so far removed from the picture-perfect Oxford city Maura remembered.

 

Still hand-in-hand, the women walked through the main reception area of the building.

 

“Harriet Morgan?” A tall, plump policeman in a grey suit stood as they approached. “I’m Detective Greenly. I’m sorry to have to ask you to do this.”

 

Detective Greenly turned to Maura, looking her up and down. In dark jeans, a thin sweater and with her hair scraped back into a messy bun, she knew she looked completely different to her normal, put-together self. “And you are…?”

 

Taking the detective’s outstretched hand, Maura took a deep breath and introduced herself.

 

“I’m Dr Maura Isles. I’m the Chief Medical Examiner for the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. I’m here in a personal capacity to accompany Miss Morgan who is experiencing some discomfort and natural stress given the circumstances and purpose of our meeting. However, although I am sure your pathology team are perfectly capable of carrying out their investigations, I am happy to be of assistance if it is necessary.”

 

Blindsided by her spiel, Detective Greenly quickly shook Maura’s hand. “Pleasure. This way.”

 

As they walked along a white-washed corridor, Harriet’s hand quickly found its place in Maura’s and squeezed tightly. Squeezing back, Maura hoped their contact would be enough to support her friend. Having been on the other side of the glass, as it were, for many identifications, she knew how emotionally painful the experience could be.

 

“Are you ready?”

 

As they stopped outside a nondescript, sterile door, Harriet nodded. “Okay.”

 

The room was cold as they entered, their footsteps echoing on the tiled floor.

 

Detective Greenly waited in the doorway as the two women approached the wiry man stood behind the metal examination table.

 

“Doctor Prendergast, these two women are here for the formal identification of the Milton Hotel body.”

 

“Rachel” Harriet murmured under her breath. “Her name is Rachel.”

 

The tall doctor gently took the corner of the white sheet in his hand, watching Harriet’s expression carefully as he pulled it back to reveal the pallid, purple-tinged face of her dead friend.

 

Releasing Maura’s hand from her own, Harriet staggered forward and leaned down. A shaking hand reached out for Rachel’s dark hair, but hovered just above her cold skin.

 

“It’s her.” Harriet said quietly, stepping away from the body and pressing herself against the white wall behind her, her hand over her mouth in shock. “That’s Rachel. Oh God…”

 

“Harriet, why don’t you step outside?” Maura asked, her voice quiet and calming. Harriet nodded and walked towards the door. Catching Detective Greenly’s eye, Maura spoke firmly. “Detective, please ensure Harriet is given plenty of water and somewhere less… sterile where she can collect herself.”

 

As the detective walked back down the corridor, Maura looked up at the pathologist. “I’m sorry, can I help you?” He asked, clearly unsure as to why this exhausted-looking woman was still in his room. Pacing around the body, Maura began to assess.

 

“Doctor Prendergast, when are you planning to begin this young woman’s autopsy?”

 

“I… It’s scheduled for tomorrow. I do have other bodies to attend to first, so if you’ll excuse me.”

 

Doctor Prendergast covered Rachel’s face once more and wheeled the body backwards towards a series of cold storage lockers in the wall.

 

“I’m Doctor Maura Isles.”

 

Before she had finished saying her name, the man before her froze. “I’ve read every forensic pathology paper you’ve ever published. I was planning on travelling to Harvard to hear you speak at the Pathology Symposium. I…. I can’t believe…”

 

Maura cut the doctor off with a smile. “I would very much appreciate a copy of the autopsy report, Doctor Prendergast.”

 

“You’re more than welcome to observe” he invited in reply.

 

“Thank you, but I’m not here in a professional capacity. I should be spending my time supporting my friend. She has experienced a significant and traumatic loss and, as you can see, she is quite shaken. But, if I can, a copy of your findings would be wonderful.”

 

As she left the room, Maura dropped her professional façade. Nervously wringing her hands around one another, she walked back down the corridor towards the reception area. Her mind was filled with the haunting image of Rachel Maloney’s face. Her sallow cheeks and sunken eyes only exaggerated the depth of the purple colour of the large hematoma on her temple and the deep gouges scratched into the skin of her face and neck. In her professional life, she would be able to use the evidence to draw conclusions and bring justice to a young woman’s loved ones. But from her place on the edge of the investigation, simply as a friend, her in-depth knowledge of forensic science left her with a question that sat, unpalatably present, at the forefront of her mind: Rachel Maloney had been poisoned. Why?


	4. Catching Up

As the taxi drove through the suburbs of Oxford, Maura fought hard to keep her thoughts to herself. Harriet, she could see, was struggling with everything happening around her. She was in desperate need of Maura’s companionship; it needed to be her priority.

 

The car turned onto a long, winding street of Victorian terraced houses. “Just here on the left please, mate.” Maura shook her head with a smile as Harriet winked at her. “See? Thirteen years in Oxford and I’m practically English.”

 

Handing the driver another crisp note, the pair exited the vehicle and dragged Maura’s hideous suitcase up the stone steps to the front door.

 

As Harriet opened the door, Maura was hit with the scent of something she had been missing over the last month and a half: home. Wheeling her case into a corner, Maura pulled off her shoes and followed her friend into the body of the house.

 

“You know; I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear flat shoes before. Well, aside from when we used to run.” Harriet commented as she busied herself collecting mugs and spoons from the draining board in the kitchen. “I thought you were a heels-only girl? Or have you changed more than I thought?”

 

Maura smiled affectionately. “I’m still a heels girl. Don’t worry. I’ve just been travelling. When you’re spending a month trekking the tourist trails of France, I’m afraid that Mr Louboutin doesn’t quite hold up to the comfort of a decent pair of Chucks.”

Expecting a laugh or a smile, Maura’s eyes met Harriet’s. They were brimming with fresh tears.

 

“Oh God. I…. I’m sorry. What did I say?” Maura asked, approaching her friend with open arms.

 

Harriet shook her head as she leaned into her friend’s embrace. “I’m just sorry I ruined your vacation. I can’t believe you came all this way.”

 

“I wouldn’t say _all_ this way. France is a damn sight closer than Boston. I was practically here already.” Maura smiled at her friend, hoping it would encourage her to do the same.

 

“Well, either way, thank you. I… I just knew I had to call you. I knew you’d be the perfect person to help even if we haven’t quite kept in touch.”

 

Maura shrugged. “Life gets in the way sometimes. I’m just glad I can help, even if it’s just explaining procedure. I’ve asked for a copy of the pathologist’s findings, too. I want to make sure you understand exactly what is going on.”

 

Harriet shrugged and smiled an empty smile. Maura got the impression that the subject of pathology was, for the moment, off limits. “Thank you, Maura. Sugar?”

 

Maura shook her head and reached out her hands for the steaming mug of tea her friend had made. “I hope you still like tea? I’m sure it was you who taught me how to make it properly before I made the move out here.”

 

Nodding, Maura took a sip and smiled. “Perfect.”

 

Harriet ushered her friend through into a small sitting room. Two fabric-covered armchairs sat against the back wall, a coffee table scattered with books stood between them. Both women perched their mugs on the table as they relaxed into the deep, soft chairs.

 

Looking around, Maura noted a few recognisable faces in the photographs on Harriet’s wall. “Oh, look at your brother! He hadn’t even finished high school when you graduated! And your mother. Oh, she was a wonderful woman.”

 

Harriet smiled warmly. “She still is. Retired now, obviously, but she’s still the same old Barbara. She often asks after you, you know.”

 

“Oh, well next time you speak to her do wish her well. I remember her coming into town one Christmas; we all went for dinner at McKay’s and she was just delightful.”

 

“The Christmas we decided it would be a good idea to get the BCU women’s running club to do the park circuit in the snow?”

 

“Oh yes!” Maura laughed. “I couldn’t walk properly for days. I think I ended up wearing slippers for the Isles Foundation winter dinner that year- mother was _not_ amused!”

 

“We had so much fun.” Harriet smiled as she sipped her tea.

 

“We did. It’s a shame we had to grow up and face the real world.”

 

Harriet nodded. “I do my best to avoid it, to be honest. Aside from work, a mortgage and bills, I try to do as little adult-ing as possible.”

 

“Adult-ing” Maura mused. “You sound like my friend Jane. Still, I do admit I long for those carefree college days every now and again.”

 

“Me too. It was great: no commitments, no proper job, no real responsibilities to worry about. And a liver that could take a night or two of hard drinking a week without complaint! What more is there to ask for?!”

 

Maura smiled at her friend, pleased that she was finally relaxing. “Exactly.”

 

“So, is there a special someone in your life?”

 

Maura coughed.

 

Harriet’s question jarred her. For a moment, everything stopped working.

 

“No” she answered curtly. “I… I haven’t had much time.”

 

“So you didn’t get swept off your feet by some Parisian beau while you were travelling?” Maura shook her head as Harriet continued. “Well, no. I suppose not. Not if you were with your friend. What was her name, again?”

 

“Jane. Her name is Jane.” Maura took a drink of her tea, trying to swallow down everything that threatened to bubble to the surface as soon as her friend’s name was mentioned. “What about you? Anyone?”

 

Harriet shook her head. “I am, as my brother so kindly puts it, tragically single. I’ve dated so many awkward professor-types and city-types and I just got bored. So, I guess I’m on dating sabbatical for now. God knows I’ve earned the break.”

 

Maura opened her mouth to answer, but her words came out in a large yawn. “Excuse me” she muttered, rubbing her forehead with her hand.

 

“You must be exhausted; you’ve been travelling for hours and you haven’t stopped. Why don’t you go upstairs and take a nap?” Harriet stopped to collect her thoughts. When she spoke again, her voice was timid and quiet.

 

“I’m sorry. I jumped the gun a bit there. I didn’t know if you’d have had time to book a hotel or anything, so I made up my guest room for you. There’s no pressure to stay. I just…”

 

Maura cut her friend off and pressed a soft hand to her upper arm. “Thank you. It’s very thoughtful. I think I could do with the rest, if you don’t mind?”

 

Smiling, Harriet gestured for Maura to follow her back through the kitchen and towards the front door. Picking up her suitcase, she carried it up the stairs and into a cosy bedroom, just big enough for a double bed.

 

“I’m sorry it’s a little small. The other bedroom is my office and I don’t have many guests since mom and the rest of my family usually stay in London when they visit England. There’s a few adaptor plugs in the drawer by the bed, though, and the plug socket is just the other side of the wardrobe.”

 

Maura smiled at her friend, noting that she could probably do with a rest as well. She made a mental note to monitor her sleep over the next few days.

 

“Okay. I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be downstairs or in my office if you need anything. I… I know I’ve already said it but I’m so grateful you’re here.”

 

“Any time” Maura answered honestly.

 

Once Harriet had closed the heavy bedroom door behind her, Maura pulled her phone from her pocket and found an adaptor in the drawer. As it began to recharge, it came back to life and a long list of notifications greeted her on the screen. Most of them were pointless and she quickly scrolled through them.

 

Opening her messaging app, she quickly typed up a text.

 

_In Oxford. Friend’s friend has been murdered. Not sure what has gone on, but v suspicious. Will keep you up to date. Hope all is going well at Quantico._

_Love you._

 

No.

 

Exiting the app, Maura deleted the message. Instead, she opened the notes on her phone and began compiling a list of questions.

 

It was the first time she had been so involved in an investigation without the support of the Boston Homicide Unit, but she was sure she had seen enough of their work to know what to look for.

 

Who was Rachel?

 

Why was she in the hotel?

 

Anyone with her?

 

What was on the note she left?

 

Why poison?

 

Who killed her?

 

Of all the questions swimming in her head, the final two were bugging her the most. Why would someone want to poison a historian? And who would have the balls (as Jane would say) to do it in such a public place?

 

Laying back on the pillow, Maura felt the exhaustion of travel seep through her muscles. Still, the burning questions about Rachel’s murder were enough to stop her mind from switching off enough to fall into the dark unconscious of sleep.

 

Rolling over and picking up her phone once more, Maura mentally calculated the time difference. Two o’clock in the UK would be 9am in Boston.

 

With one eye on the wooden door, she tapped out a text and pressed send.

 

_Hi. Can you do me a favour? Could you do a search on Harriet Morgan? B.1977 Boston native living in Oxford. You can call, but please text first so I can make excuses if I need to. Not in any danger, don’t worry. Love to you and F xxxxxx_


	5. We Need to Talk About Rachel

The loud ring and the smell of cooking brought Maura to her senses. The screen of her phone illuminated the now dark room and burned her eyes.

 

Pulling herself into a sitting position, she stretched her arms up and out before answering the call.

 

“Dr Isles”

 

“Oh thank God you’re okay.” Nina’s relieved voice sang through the receiver. The woman hadn’t been working for Boston Police Department all that long, but she was an invaluable member of the team and, now engaged to Jane’s brother Frankie, she was part of that warm, Rizzoli family much in the same way as Maura was.

 

“I’m fine. Don’t worry. It’s… I’m just helping out a friend. But I’d like to know if you’ve found anything.”

 

Nina sighed. “I’m glad you’re alright. So. Harriet Catherine Morgan. Born, as you said, May 1977 in Boston to Barbara and Charles Morgan. Barbara remarried Bill Hunter in 1985 and they have one son, born in 1990.”

 

“Joshua. Yes, I know.”

 

“Her financials are clean, her academic records at both BCU and Oxford are perfect. There’s nothing on this girl. The only thing I could find was that her name came up in a report on an on-going murder investigation. She was a person of interest, but not anymore. Is… is that why you’re there?”

 

“Yes. She… her friend was killed. I was the first person she thought to call. And, of course, France isn’t so far away so now I’m here.”

 

“Maura” Nina’s tone changed.

 

“I’m fine. Any sign of trouble and you’ll be the first person I call. Okay?”

 

“No. I’ll be the second person you call. If you’re in any trouble, if anything at all seems suspicious, you call Jane. Boston police have no jurisdiction, but if a US national is involved in something, the FBI do have a right to know and they can step in if they need to. So call Jane.”

 

“I will. I… I will if I need to. Nina?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Please don’t tell her what’s going on. She’ll only worry, and then she’ll be here and…”

 

“I get it. She’s full on. She’ll worry and she’ll get all overprotective and you’ll never finish that novel.”

 

Maura tried her best not to sigh at Nina’s words. “Something like that. Just… promise me?”

 

“Okay. But you keep yourself out of trouble, you hear?”

 

“I will. Give everyone my love.”

 

“I will. Be safe.”

 

As Maura ended the call, she heard a soft knock on her bedroom door.

 

“Come in” she said.

 

Harriet peered around the door, smiling at Maura. “I’ve made us some dinner. It’s ready when you are- if you want to shower first, it can wait. I’m just going to throw on some comfier clothes- I managed to get chicken stock all over my shirt.”

 

Maura laughed at the sight of the grown woman’s stained shirt. “You always were such a messy cook!”

 

After a quick shower, Maura changed into a pair of black leggings and an oversized BPD t-shirt that she was sure had found its way into her case by accident. With her hair piled on top of her head and her black-rimmed glasses perched on her nose, she looked twenty years younger.

 

“Now that’s the Maura I remember! I mean, you always knew how to dress well but casual just… suits you.”

 

Maura smiled warmly, taking a seat opposite her friend at the small two-person table in the kitchen.

 

“Now, I should have checked earlier, but I forgot. You do still eat meat, don’t you?” Maura nodded.

 

“Excellent.”

 

With a steaming bowl of chicken and mushroom risotto in front of her, it dawned on Maura how long it had been since she had eaten a proper meal.

 

“This is gorgeous” she complimented Harriet after the first mouthful. Harriet nodded back, smiling.

 

“Thanks. I… I haven’t felt up to cooking since I got the call. But having you here it… I feel so much more relaxed. It’s like a weight has been lifted knowing I can share what’s going on with someone who understands.”

 

Smiling at her friend, Maura took another mouthful and sighed at the comforting warmth.

 

“You know, we really should talk about what’s happening. I don’t know much about your friend at all. Plus, it might help if you talk about it. Bottling things up is a dangerous habit. So, tell me about Rachel.”

 

The sound of her friend’s name seemed to stall Harriet. Blinking slowly, she got up and wandered to the fridge. Pulling out a chilled, green glass bottle, she poured a healthy measure of the pale liquid into a waiting glass and drank it down. Pouring herself another, she gestured the bottle in Maura’s direction.

 

“Please.” Maura nodded.

 

Sat back at the table, wine in front of both of their places, Harriet shook out her hands nervously.

 

“Where to start? Well. Rachel and I met at a Florence Nightingale celebration event at the British Museum in London. We were the only two Americans there, and once we got talking we realised we were both from BCU. She was still there- I think she was just about to graduate and they’d already offered her a research post, but she wasn’t sold on the idea. She wanted more freedom. She was so… enthusiastic and I could see so much potential. So I spoke to another professor in the faculty and the bursar and, before the end of the week, I’d offered her a doctoral scholarship she couldn’t refuse. She started at Oxford the following September.

 

Her thesis was on wartime codebreaking and how the Bletchley Park system changed society’s view of women of high intelligence. I found it all absolutely fascinating. Well, so did a lot of other people. Before she’d finalised her thesis, she was being approached about book deals. The night she was… the night she died she was in Bedford. She was due to speak at a 1940’s festival at Bletchley Park the next day. She… she contacted me to say she had a few clear days in her calendar after the festival and that she would love to meet for coffee. I called early and left a message to wish her luck, but she… she was already dead.”

 

Maura reached over to stroke Harriet’s hand as the woman took a shuddering breath.

“When the police called, they came to the office. They… they told me then and there that she was dead and that I was the first person they had found with a definite connection to her. She was in the foster system most of her life, in a group home, and her boyfriend left her last year. So she had nobody left. Nobody they could find.”

 

“Why did she write your name?” Maura asked after a pause, unsure if quizzing her fragile friend would give her the answers she needed.

 

“I have no idea. I… I was her friend, but I have no idea why she would name me in that way.”

 

“Was it just your name? Or was there more to the message?” Maura asked, using the calm interrogation techniques Jane had taught her when she first began working at BPD.

 

“Harriet Morgan. DEP RUP GUQ. The police were baffled. They asked so many questions.”

 

“Do you have any idea what it means?”

 

Harriet shook her head. “None. That’s what I told them. She… she liked codes, though. It was a huge part of her Bletchley work.”

 

Maura pulled a piece of kitchen towel from the roll on the worktop and found a pen in a pot by the windowsill. “Say it again.”

 

“DEP RUP GUQ”

 

Maura sat in silence for a moment. Harriet watched with intent curiosity as her friend’s eyes scanned the letters over and over again.

 

“Erup… no. Pug… no. Dep… no. There’s no word here. No anagram. Well, not in English.”

 

“I love that you can do that. I’d have been here for hours.” Harriet smiled. “And before you ask, she only spoke English and basic German. Enough to understand some elements of the German code from Bletchley but only with a translator app on her phone.”

 

“Did Rachel’s work involve the Enigma machine?” Maura asked after a pause. Harriet nodded.

 

“Not exclusively, but it was a huge part of the Bletchley operation. Why?”

 

“I… I just wonder if, maybe, we need to plug these letters in to the machine and see what comes back.”

 

“Sounds good to me. We can do that tomorrow, if you like. It… it would help to keep my mind busy.”

 

“Do you know where we can find one?” Maura asked, enjoying the fact that her friend seemed to have perked up.

 

“Bletchley Park.”


	6. Meeting Professor Mountford

Bletchley Park Museum was a large, Victorian Gothic mansion situated in parkland in the county of Buckinghamshire. During the Second World War, it had been the base for the Government Code and Cypher School- a branch of the British intelligence services dedicated to breaking the encrypted communications of various branches of the Nazi armed forces.

 

Until the 1970s, Bletchley had been a government secret. Only selected people who had worked in the intelligence services or within the park itself had any idea of its existence. And nobody knew the full story.

 

Bletchley Park had been home to the best minds across a number of disciplines throughout the war. Alan Turing, father of modern computing, had been based at the site for the duration of the war and his efforts alone had made a significant impact on the success of the allies. It truly was a fascinating place.

 

As the car she had hired turned to drive towards the looming main house, Maura couldn’t help but imagine what her role would have been had she been alive during the war. It was such a significant part of history, especially for women, and she could understand exactly why Rachel Maloney had dedicated years of her life to studying exactly what had gone on in this magnificent, but secretive place.

 

She had spent a large portion of the previous evening thumbing through Rachel’s thesis: her notes, her scribbles, in the hope of finding something significant. When nothing jumped out at her, she decided it would be best to commit as much as she could to memory. Now that she was here, approaching the gravel driveway and round lake Rachel had described in her writing, her words were given life and meaning and Maura felt confident that a little time in this place would be all she needed to make sense of Rachel’s work.  

 

“Hello, I called earlier. We’re here to see the research manager? He said he would meet with us this morning..” As Harriet spoke, Maura noted how much her Bostonian accent had softened from her years in the UK.

 

“Okay. If you can give me a moment, I’ll call Professor Mountford for you. His office is just through that door, if you’d like to wait in there.”

 

It felt strange to be ushered into an office in the middle of a museum, but Maura surmised that Professor Mountford would simply rather have use of a functional office that had always been an office, rather than take a room that had a different function and destroy any historical significance they might find in there.

 

The door creaked open. Professor Mountford, who looked to be in his early seventies, strode confidently into the room. “Are you ladies here for me?” He asked, beady eyes surveying them both as he stretched out his hand.

 

With a firm handshake for each of them, Professor Nicholas Mountford introduced himself. “Now, what can I do for you?”

 

Harriet took a breath. “Professor, I am a friend of Rachel Maloney. Your name was in her doctorate file.”

 

“Ah, Rachel. Such an enthusiastic character. It’s so nice to see the young taking an interest in their history.”

 

“Professor Mountford, Rachel is dead.”

 

The old man gripped the leather desk with both hands, his knuckles white and swollen from arthritis.

 

“Dead? Oh good heavens. That is a shame. When she didn’t appear for her presentation at the festival, I asked my colleague to call. She didn’t get an answer, but I didn’t persevere. I just supposed she was ill. I do hope she didn’t suffer.”

 

Maura shook her head, looking into the man’s eyes searchingly. “I’m afraid it was murder, Professor.”

 

Nicholas Mountford raised a hand to his heart. “Well. Poor Rachel. What a damn shame. I… I thank you for coming all this way to tell me. I will truly miss her. Is there anything else you would like to know whilst you’re here?”

 

“Rachel left…” Maura nudged her friend and shook her head, unsure if she could trust this man with such important information.

 

“Professor, what did you know about Rachel’s work?”

 

“Rachel’s focus was mainly on the women employed at Bletchley. When she visited, it would be to roam through old testimonials, old letters. She knew more about the women who worked here than anyone else I know. She would meet regularly with a group, the Bletchley Park Historical Preservation Society, and had met a handful of the women who did work here. Most, unfortunately, are no longer with us, but she had the joy of hearing first-hand how these women changed the world for the better. Not many more people will get that privilege, I’m afraid.”

 

Maura smiled at the man’s enthusiasm. “It sounds like wonderful work.”

 

“Preserving the stories of history’s forgotten heroes? There is nothing better, my dear.”

 

Trying her best to recall the chapter names of Rachel’s work, there was nothing of significance Maura thought she could ask.

 

“Do you mind if we have a look around? I would really like to know more about this place.”

 

Professor Mountford nodded, and gestured to the door. “Absolutely. As friends of Rachel’s I would say go through free of charge, but a small donation is always useful to us here. I’m afraid I have a meeting to attend with the events team- I shall have to let them know about this sad news- so I won’t be able to accompany you. There is a guided tour setting off from the main doors at ten-past. It is truly fascinating stuff. I should know- I wrote the script.”

 

Rising from his seat, Nicholas Mountford strode confidently back towards the door. “I am sorry our meeting has been under such terrible circumstances.” After shaking the hands of both women, he was gone.

 

“What now?” Harriet asked.

 

“We find an enigma machine”.

 

Strolling quietly behind a group of tourists, Maura half-listened to the guide’s explanations as she looked around for any sign of a working enigma machine. As they approached the huts of the old naval codebreakers, she spotted a display case.

 

“Harriet!” She whispered, pointing. “Enigma.”

 

The large, black machine looked like an old typewriter, but with more cogs and no space for paper. “See, the machines were wired in pairs with different settings. Depending on the rotor positions, each key gave out a different letter. But always in pairs. It was one of the biggest breakthroughs early on. Fascinating”.

 

“There’s one problem” Harriet said, studying the machine in the glass box before them. “We don’t know the rotor positions. We… without them we have no idea what we’re looking for. It doesn’t make any sense.”

 

“I agree.”

 

“So, we’re back to square one?”

 

“Unless Rachel managed to remember a series of exact rotor positions and make note of them before she…” Maura stopped herself before she upset her friend.

 

“Yes, square one.”

 

The tour was disrupted by the shrill tone of Maura’s telephone.

 

Glancing down at the name scrolling along the top of the screen, she let out a deep sigh. “I should take this” she explained, her hand gently resting on Harriet’s forearm.

 

“Is it work?”

 

Maura shook her head.

 

“It’s Jane.”


	7. Quantico Calling

“Hey”. Maura answered her phone quickly as she walked out into the fresh September air.

 

“Hi. I… Is now a good time? I just wanted to check in.” Jane’s voice cracked, a tell-tale sign that it was still early.

 

“I’m fine. Just… taking a tour around a museum for a bit of book inspiration. Have you just got into work?” Maura felt her pulse quicken at the slight mis-truth in her words.

 

Jane sighed. “Yeah. I’ve got stacks of paperwork staring at me so I called you instead.”

 

Maura laughed. “A Jane Rizzoli never changes her spots.”

 

“Exactly, my friend.” Jane leaned back in her chair, relaxed. “So which museum have you gone to?”

 

“I… Well. I’ve taken a little field trip to England. Just for a few days.”

 

“I thought the novel was set in France?” Jane sensed Maura’s hesitation as soon as the question left her lips.

 

“It is… I just…”

 

“Needed a fresh start?”

 

“Something like that.”

 

Jane ran a hand through her dark curls, brushing them away from her face. Looking up, phone pressed to her ear, she watched as Agent Cameron Davies stepped into her office.

“Sounds good. I… I have to go now. But call me when you can.”

 

“I will.”

 

“I miss you” Jane said honestly.

 

“I miss you too.” Maura closed her eyes, picturing the comforting smile and warm eyes of her best friend, who suddenly felt much further away.

 

“Maura?” Jane questioned, her tone firm. “Be safe.”

 

Hanging up the call, Jane turned to the tall, handsome man now leaning against her door frame.

 

“How can I help you, agent?” She asked with a sultry smile.

 

Agent Davies sauntered into the room, eyes directly on hers. “I was wondering if you might be free for a morning coffee before classes start? I missed you this morning- what time did you leave mine?”

 

Jane smiled softly. “I… I needed to catch up on paperwork. But I haven’t done much. So I’m going to pass on the coffee. Sorry… babe.”

 

Cameron shrugged. “No worries. I just… well, I hope Maura is okay. It was Maura on the phone, right?”

 

“She’s fine” Jane nodded. “Anyway,” she gestured to the stack of paper before her, “paperwork”.

 

“I’ll see you later.” Cameron called to her as he walked out of the office and back into the busy corridor of Quantico’s FBI Academy.

 

As soon as she was sure he was gone, Jane hung a ‘do not disturb’ sign on her door and closed it behind her. Walking back to her desk, she rubbed her hands together. Maura always told her off for fidgeting, but the rough scars on her palms always seemed to twinge when she knew something was off.

 

Like now.

 

An email was open on her desktop. At first, the email’s subject had scared her. Seeing just the name ‘Maura’ and a link to a newspaper had reminded her of so many of their worst cases. She had seen her best friend abducted, abused, beaten, arrested and on the brink of death more times than she cared to remember. Their lives had been laced with danger for so long: Jane knew from experience that it was never far away.

 

Her mission in life was to keep her friends and family safe. The fact that Maura had hidden the truth from her hurt her deeply. It was a sign, she supposed, of the changes they had been through but it pained her more than any of the goodbyes she had said over the last few months. They were a team; they worked best together.

 

But Maura was dealing with this alone, and she clearly didn’t need Jane’s help.

 

Sighing to herself, she opened the link on Nina’s email.

 

‘Suspicious Death at the Milton Hotel’ was the headline. Nina had explained in a brief note underneath that Maura had asked her to search for a name. The name had been linked to one open case- this one.

 

“Shit, Maura.”

 

Jane’s anxiety peaked as she read through the article. It was brief, just the bare facts. Jane knew from her own experience how the information was passed to the press. No names, no details, just enough information to satiate the public’s need to know.

 

To Jane, who knew the protocol of murder better than anyone else, it turned her stomach. Maura was not safe. Maura was involved. Maura was miles away.

 

Pushing her now-forgotten paperwork to the side of her desk, Jane pulled a clean notebook and a pencil from her draw and began to write. It was second nature after her years in the homicide unit and, after a dreary beginning to her new teaching job at the FBI, it felt exciting.

 

It was the same excitement she remembered feeling when she first earned her detective’s badge. The hunger, the drive to unravel strings and find justice, reignited within her- filling a space she hadn’t realised had grown since walking out the doors of Boston Police Department for the final time over a month ago.

 

Quickly, she began to search through the key terms of the article. Milton Hotel. Bedford.  Suspicious death.

 

From her new teacher’s laptop, there wasn’t a lot she could do. Most of the search facilities were disabled, since it wasn’t her job to be part of open investigations. The lack of freedom saddened her, but Jane Rizzoli was not about to let ‘the system’ get in her way.

 

Walking down the corridor, she approached a closed door.  Checking through the frosted glass, she knocked lightly as she pushed her way into the room.

 

“I’m very sorry to disturb you, gentlemen.” Jane turned on the charm as she spoke. “But I was wondering if I could speak with Agent Davies?”

 

Cameron lifted his head away from the case file in his hand. “Jane?”

 

“Hi. Sorry to burst in. I… there’s a technician working in my office, but I’ve got class in just over an hour and I need to finish grading these tests. I just need a desk and somewhere quiet to work. If you’re in here, could I use your office? Sorry. I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate.”

 

Cameron nodded and gestured to the room next door.   
  
“Go ahead. Just turn the light off before you leave. I’ll see you later. I… ” Cameron hesitated, checking the company he had around the long conference table. “I’ll text you.”

 

Jane quickly exited the conference room and walked into Cameron’s office. Smiling to herself, she closed the door quickly and pulled down the blind. Being sneaky had always been one of her special skills- especially growing up with her overbearing Italian mother breathing down her neck- but blagging her way into her kind-of-boss-sort-of-boyfriend’s office was a trick Maura would have seen through straight away.

 

In fact, standing in front of Cameron, she expected him to immediately question the glint in her eye, to see through her ridiculous plan and talk her down. But it had worked. And she was in his office. At his desk. With his computer.

 

“Password… Password” Jane mumbled out loud as she looked around the room. Cameron’s office was relatively personal, but nothing particularly stuck out. The photographs of his niece and nephew on his desk didn’t display names, and she didn’t think they’d be his first choice of password.

 

Leaning back in his chair, she took a deep breath. There was no way an FBI agent’s password would be ‘password’. His hometown didn’t have a baseball or football team that she knew of. His first pet had been a fish called Fish- the man wasn’t massively imaginative and she doubted four letters would meet the requirements for his bureau login.

 

Behind his door, Jane spotted a framed photograph on the wall. The fifteen men were seated, smiling, a large panther-headed mascot in the centre of the back row. The gilded caption underneath read: University of Pittsburgh Basketball Team, Spring 2001. Jane scoffed slightly as she reached her deduction. There was no way the man she knew had ever been a basketball player. No way. Agent Cameron Davies had been the mascot.

 

Back at his desk, Jane suppressed a girlish giggle as she typed ‘Panthers2001’ into the password bar and watched the screen come to life.

 

“Look at me now, Frost” Jane said with a smile, looking up.

 

Checking quickly for any sign of movement outside the office, she opened a database search and set her parameters. The system would file through millions, if not billions, of transcripts, arrest notes, parking fines and court summons before it found what she was looking for if she wasn’t specific. She didn’t have time for a fishing expedition.

 

The British police would have had to notify the American Embassy in London if one of their citizens had been killed. The Embassy would then have filed a notification of death, which would have been logged in the database for state- and federal- detectives to find.

 

Rachel Maloney.

 

The name wasn’t included in the newspaper article Nina had sent her. It hadn’t been in the email. But everything fit- Bedford. Hotel. Oxford. Identified officially by Harriet Morgan.

 

Noting that time had run away from her, Jane closed the search and quickly logged out of Cameron’s computer, turning it off completely for good measure. Picking up her notebook and bag, she walked out of the office and closed the door behind her.

 

There was not enough time for her to dig any further. Not now. But the fear she had for Maura’s safety weighed heavily on her mind. With her phone in her hand, she quickly tapped out a message as she walked through the building’s dull corridors, pressing send just before opening the door to the classroom for her morning lecture.


	8. Nina

Life at Boston Police Department was never dull.

 

The homicide department was, as always, humming with activity as teams of detectives swarmed around the office space. Murder was, unfortunately, one of the most consistent crimes on Boston’s streets and, for Nina Holliday; it was one of the only things in her life that hadn’t changed.

 

In just short of two months she had moved in with Frankie, got engaged and had watched as three key players of the Homicide team had left the building; two of them for the final time. The shift in atmosphere had been a lot to get used to and Nina knew it would take time for things to begin to feel normal again.

 

As the department’s tech analyst, her job meant that she spent a minimal amount of time in the field. While other colleagues were out shooting bad guys, Nina knew her best chance at solving any mystery was to sit herself in front of her computer. A few of the guys still took her for granted, barking orders at her whenever they needed something. Others had taken the time to make her feel welcome. Especially after they found out why she had taken the job in Boston and moved from Chicago.

 

To start any new job is difficult, but beginning a new career- a new journey- after watching a bullet take the life of the man she loved was grim. Jane, Maura, Frankie and Vince had been so kind. Each of them had taken time out of their day to check in on her, to keep her up to date with cases she was involved in, and to make her feel comfortable. It warmed her heart and, after everything they had been through together, they were family.

 

Seeing Maura’s name scroll across her screen had made her smile. Even on vacation, they hadn’t forgotten her.

 

Maura’s message had stopped her in her tracks.

 

The pristine doctor wasn’t usually one to seek out danger, especially not alone, but Nina knew from experience that nobody was ever safe.

 

She had to tell Jane. Maura had asked her not to, but Jane needed to know.

 

Her phone buzzed with a new message. Nina leaned back in her chair and read.

 

_About to go into class so can’t call. When you have time- who is Rachel Maloney? You are a star xxxx_

Nina smiled at the kisses on the end of Jane’s message. Grown men were terrified of her and, at times, they were right to be, but Jane Rizzoli was a soft-centred sweetheart and one of the most loyal and caring friends Nina had ever met.

 

At work, Jane’s fierce sense of justice was fought with a shield of ruthless loyalty and a sharp sword of honesty and intelligent wit. But, out of the office, Nina was lucky enough to witness the Jane who cried at her friends’ happiness, who would sacrifice anything for those around her and who lived to care for her family. The transformation from Detective Jane to just-Jane was something only her closest friends ever got to witness and, from speaking to Frankie, Nina knew that Maura had had a lot to do with making Jane the person she was.

 

When she first arrived at BPD, Nina had just _supposed_ that there was something more than friendship between the two women. When she learned that Jane was dating an army captain and that Maura had a history with a number of society bachelors, she was stunned. The two women were more than compatible: they were completely in tune with one another, but still maintained their individuality. It was a perfect marriage, but one that neither Maura nor Jane seemed to have any idea they were living in.

 

Re-reading the message in front of her, Nina knew she had to do whatever it took to keep Maura safe. Maura was, although not officially, family. Jane, Frankie and their mother were all fiercely protective of the blonde doctor and- as Nina was soon to be a Rizzoli herself- she knew it was also her duty to make sure that their friend was safe.

 

Rachel Maloney.

 

Nina typed the name into the search bar of her database and hit enter.

 

Within moments, the screen in front of her was black, aside from a large white box of text which read: This system has been suspended.

 

“Shit”. Nina stood up, walking towards the wall of equally black screens at the opposite end of the room. “Shit, shit shit.”

 

On her desk, the black office telephone began to ring. Quickly, she ran back and picked it up.

 

“Nina Holliday” she answered, trying to hide the nervous shake in her voice.

 

“Ms Holliday. This is Special Agent O’Neill with the FBI. I’m sorry to be so dramatic, but I can’t risk leaking any information. Your computer system will remain suspended until you tell me your exact interest in the name you just searched.”

 

“Shit.”


	9. The Confidential Informant

Jane paced the floor of the now-empty lecture theatre, taking in every rambling word of Nina’s panicked explanation.

 

“… then he told me that he was searching through my open cases and could see no reason why I was looking so then I had to tell him and now he knows who you are and…. Jane… I’m sorry.”

 

Jane shook her head. “Nina, it’s fine. Just… thank you for taking that call. I… I’m in your debt, honestly. I knew something fishy was going on!”

 

The double doors at the side of the room were pushed open.

 

“Okay, I’ve got to go.”

 

Jane quickly ended the call and stuffed her phone into her pocket as she watched a tall, suited man walk into the room.

 

“Jane Rizzoli?” he asked.

 

Jane nodded and reached out her hand. “I am. And you are…?”

 

The man shook her hand politely and gestured towards the red, fabric seats on the front row.

 

“My name is Special Agent O’Neill. I spoke with your ex-colleague earlier who informed me you were working for us now.”

 

“Yes. I… how can I help you, sir?”

 

“Rachel Maloney is… was my confidential informant.”

 

“Shit.” Jane turned pale.

 

“Since her death, I’ve been keeping a close eye on anyone looking for her.”

 

“I’m sorry… I…. I just…”

 

Agent O’Neill patted her arm reassuringly. “You don’t need to panic. Your friend explained your interest and I understand.”

 

“Agent, what was Rachel involved in? I… I need to know. Please.” Jane’s mind was full of panicked thoughts. If someone had killed Rachel for information, how long would it be before the genius Maura Isles became a target?

 

“Rachel Maloney was a key witness in a murder investigation in England. She found a colleague- Martin Richards- dead in his home. When the police got there, the house was full of all sorts of evidence. Enough to link this man to at least four major international operations- arms dealing, drugs, money laundering and potentially a network of hit men. But it didn’t fit. None of it had been touched by him. Forensics couldn’t find a speck of trace evidence to link him to any of it.”

 

“It had been planted” Jane surmised.

 

“Yes. An entire evidence locker’s worth of guns, cash, computers, phones and documents. All planted. And, since then, we’ve heard nothing from any of these groups. Not a peep.”

 

“So Rachel was involved?” Jane questioned, feeling the panic burning in her stomach.

 

Agent O’Neill nodded. “She knew this guy pretty well. It was easy for her to start asking questions, to dig. The evidence was linked to so many operations- all over Europe, some in the USA- that she ended up reporting to an international task force. We were all involved, but I was her direct line.”

 

“I’m sorry, Agent” Jane softened. As much as this man had a job to do, she knew the harrowing feeling that followed the loss of a CI. The sense of responsibility was a lot to bear.

 

“I… I’m getting there. But it’s hard. Rachel’s death- her murder- tells us more than her information really ever did. She had found something but she wasn’t communicating. We had our suspicions that she was going it alone. It doesn’t pay to be a martyr. In fact, it killed her.”

 

Jane gulped. All she could think about was Maura, alone in England and refusing to let Jane in.

 

“We didn’t hear from her for a while. Then we got the call. Whoever killed Martin was close enough to Rachel to know what she was looking for; what she had found. For now, we have very little to go on. The task force… well, their priority is trying to intercept communications and find this group. Rachel’s murder was unfortunate, but it’s not their priority. Your friend needs to stay away from this, Ms Rizzoli. For her own safety.”

 

Not a priority.

 

For her own safety.

 

Shit.

 

Jane felt herself sweating. Acid burned her throat as she shook the agent’s hand and left the room. Rushing down yet another whitewashed corridor, she pushed the bathroom door open with her shoulder and ran into an empty stall.

 

Crouching over the bowl, she shuddered as her body expelled her breakfast.

 

With a pale, shaking hand, she wiped her forehead before resting her head in her arms.

 

Maura was in danger.

 

She had to help.

 

“Jane?” Cameron’s voice echoed off the walls of the empty bathroom.

 

“Jane are you okay?”

 

Wiping her mouth and flushing, Jane stood up. Lightheaded, she took three deep breaths before opening the cubicle door and meeting Cameron’s eye.

 

“You look awful” he commented, looking her up and down.

 

Jane, throwing her hair over her shoulder as she washed her hands and face in the small, white sink, spoke without looking at him. “Thanks.”

 

“I…. I just… I mean.” Cameron took a breath. “I saw you rush in here. Are you sick?”

 

Jane shook her head. “I’m fine. I just overheated. That lecture theatre gets hot when it’s full.”

 

“Okay. Well, make sure you get a drink and rest. I’ll see you later.”

 

As he walked back out of the bathroom, Jane leaned against the cool tiled wall and sighed. It was nice to be allowed to be independent- to be away from her overbearing family- but Jane missed them. Maura would have forced her to a seat. Given her a drink. Taken her temperature. Rubbed her back.

 

She hated comparing the two- Cameron and Maura- but she couldn’t help it.

 

She missed having someone care so deeply about her. Someone who knew Jane well enough to know when she needed help.

 

Plucking her phone out of her jacket pocket, Jane quickly tapped a message.

 

_Not feeling great. Going home to rest. See you tomorrow._

Collecting her bags, Jane made her way back through the building and down the stairs to her car.

 

The drive home wasn’t long, but Jane’s panic meant that she was back in half the usual time. Her mind was running at double speed, going through every eventuality and possibility until she couldn’t take it anymore.

 

Slamming her front door shut, Jane slid down behind it and sat on the floor. Leaning back, she stared at the ceiling.

 

Jane had never been one for lists. For pros and cons. But now, sat limply on her apartment’s oak floor, she mentally drew up her options.

 

Leaving for the FBI academy had been a conscious choice. She was sick of putting those around her in danger. Of sleepless nights waiting for the bogeyman to come back. Her memories haunted her, they always would, but she thought that her leaving would ensure that her family was safe.

 

But the danger was still there, still lurking. All Jane had done was remove herself from the situation.

 

Her life was supposed to be easy now. She should be happy. She had a 9-5 job that took her out of the field, a decent apartment in a safe area and a nice guy who wasn’t a serial killer, and who wasn’t going to disappear off to Afghanistan at the drop of a hat.

 

But now, sat on her floor, staring out at her apartment through a film of tears, Jane finally admitted that her new life wasn’t living up to her expectations.

 

She missed Boston. She missed her family. She missed her job; the thrill of the chase, the sense of purpose. She knew who she was in Boston. Here, she wasn’t so sure.

 

Most of all, she missed Maura.

 

After their month in France, the hole in her heart had grown every day. At first, she had ignored it. As the pain grew, she threw herself into her new life. She went to FBI social events, went on dates with Cameron, went to the gym, but nothing worked. Not really.

 

Missing Maura consumed her. Jane stayed busy, distracting herself with paperwork and throwing herself into grading papers and writing presentations. She pushed all her thoughts to the side and invested her energy into becoming Jane Rizzoli: FBI Instructor.

 

Nina’s email had been the final straw that had broken the floodgates.

 

She had picked up the phone. Dialled her number.

 

She was far away, too far, but hearing her soft voice had been so wonderful. The rush of warmth to her heart was familiar, the same rush she felt every time they were together.

 

“Fuck.”

 

Standing up and brushing herself off, Jane walked through her apartment and into her bedroom. Most of the boxes were unpacked, but her suitcase still stood in the corner.

 

Throwing it onto the bed, she began to search through her drawers, picking anything she could possibly need and throwing it into the open case.

 

Once it was full, she zipped it up and reattached the lock that she hadn’t put away yet.

 

Finding a piece of paper, she scribbled a note to Cameron. She was sure he would come by to check on her. She felt bad not sending a text or calling, but she didn’t want him to follow.

 

Re-reading the note, she swallowed. She had been nice, but the message was clear.

 

Her choice wasn’t stay or go. It wasn’t FBI or BPD.

 

It was him or her. Cameron or Maura.

 

The door slammed behind her as she pulled her suitcase out into the corridor.

 

She had made up her mind.

 

A blue taxi pulled up outside the building and she quickly hauled her case into the trunk.

 

“Where to?” The man asked, never taking his eyes off the road.

 

“To the airport.”


	10. A Change Will Do You Good

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your kudos and comments so far... it means a lot! Please let me know what you think!

“One more time?” Harriet frustratedly paced around her small office as Maura tapped the coded digits of Rachel’s note into the computer.

  
“Harriet. You know there’s nothing there. You’re… you’re wearing yourself down.” Maura watched her friend, who continued to pace about the room like a caged lion. “You need a break from this. I… I’ve been where you are and you need to take care of yourself. This”- she gestured to the scrappy, scribbled notes strewn around the overworked computer on Harriet’s desk- “this is enough to break a person.”

 

Harriet shrugged. “I don’t know what else to do.”

 

Maura sighed. Harriet, she had found, was just as stubborn as Jane. They had the same fire, the same determination, and Maura knew it came from a good place.

 

She knew she wasn’t going to be able to convince her friend to give up. And she didn’t want to. But she had to do something.

 

They needed a break.

 

“Come on” Maura said, holding her friend gently around the arm as she pulled her out of the office and towards her bedroom. “Comfy clothes. Sports bra. Jacket. Sneakers.” Harriet raised an inquisitive eyebrow as Maura walked down the landing to her own bedroom.

 

“You need a break. We’re going for a run.”

 

Throwing on the running tights and top-of-the-range shoes from her suitcase, Maura took a breath. She knew she was also guilty of letting Rachel’s murder take over, but it was better than facing the reality of her own life. Her running gear, clean after Harriet had insisted on washing all of her clothes, was bought especially for Paris. For Paris with Jane.

 

Pulling her hair out of her face and into a ponytail, Maura did some light stretches in front of her bedroom door. If Harriet wasn’t allowed to think about the murder during this run, Maura wasn’t going to let herself think about Jane.

 

The September air was just cool enough for a jacket. As the women jogged gently away from Harriet’s front door, Maura smiled at the sensation of the cold air rushing across her cheeks. “It’s good to be doing this again”.

 

Although it had been over a decade since they last ran together, the two women quickly found a comfortable pace. Term hadn’t started yet and, without the onslaught of students, their route to the park was quiet. Maura followed Harriet down one of the many winding paths of Oxford’s South Park, admiring the view of the city’s skyline as they ran.

 

Their route took them through the main body of the park, across the busy main road and into Headington Hill Park on the other side. Climbing the steep hill at a jog, Harriet pointed out a bench at the top. “Just… need a minute.”

 

Slowing to a walk before sitting down, the two women caught their breath. “You okay?” Maura asked her friend while she readjusted her ponytail. Harriet nodded and leaned back. “I feel good. This was a good idea. Thank you.”

 

Harriet’s eyes met Maura’s and both women smiled, lost for a moment in one another. “You know” Harriet broke the silence, “Maybe I should call Rachel’s old supervisor. He might be able to shed some light on her work. I mean, in more detail than we can. I might make it easier, you know, to share the load.”

 

Maura nodded. “That sounds like a good idea. Okay, now no more thinking about Rachel. You count your fore-foot strike and breathe, that’s all. This is supposed to be an exercise in switching off. Ready?” Harriet stood to join Maura, who was already bouncing on her feet and stretching her arms.

 

Maura took off. “Race you home!”

 

Shaking her head and laughing, Harriet quickly followed.

 

The two women were side by side by the time they reached the turning for Harriet’s street. With a quick glance, both set off at a sprint. Pushing to beat her friend, Maura used all her physical knowledge to drive her body, ignoring every ache and sign of fatigue until she got to the front door.

 

Harriet appeared moments later, a gleaming key in her hand. “First one to the shower wins” she said with a mischievous glint in her eye. “And I have the key.” Pushing Maura out of the way, she quickly unlocked the door and stepped into the house. Maura- never one to be underestimated- powered past her and up the stairs.

 

At the bathroom door, she pushed her arms into the woodwork to block her friend from entering. “Nope. Not getting past” Maura laughed. “I’m winning this time.”

 

Harriet pressed herself against her friend and pushed with her body. The bathroom door opened inwards and both women fell to the floor. Maura, still panting, laughed at the sight of the red-faced woman resting inches above her on her muscular forearms. Reaching out, Maura touched the base of the shower with one finger, her eyes never leaving Harriet’s.

 

“I win.”

 

Harriet’s eyes darkened, swallowing Maura into their gaze. She gulped, her mouth dry, as her friend moved closer.

 

Her eyes were drawn down to her lips, unmoving as she reached out to cradle her hand gently around the back of her friend’s head. Harriet’s eyes fluttered closed at the contact. Her lips parted, moving ever closer.

 

As Harriet’s face eclipsed hers, Maura’s mind went blank. Leaning in, she gave in to her body and allowed herself to succumb to this moment. Her lips pressed against soft flesh and, quickly, she felt her frustrations begin to ebb away. Harriet leaned closer, her body now pressed firmly against Maura’s as her hands travelled to rest on the doctor’s hips as their lips continued to move together.

 

“Mmm” Harriet murmured as Maura’s tongue gently grazed her open lips. Pressing into her, she let her body move of its own accord, her hips moving lower, grinding against Maura’s hot centre.

 

“Oh” Maura broke away to throw her head back, allowing Harriet’s kisses to travel down to the most sensitive part of her neck, her fingernails grazing at the sensitive scalp hidden beneath a waterfall of honey blonde curls.

 

“Oh”

 

“Oh, don’t stop”.

 

“Oh, Jane.”


	11. The Aftermath

The house was silent.

 

Maura stepped out of the shower, her body still red from the scalding heat of the water, and wrapped herself in a large towel. Walking quickly to her bedroom, Maura locked the door behind her and sat, still towel-clad, on the bed.

 

A million thoughts occupied her mind, but the loudest was her own voice. Repeating and repeating and repeating.

 

“Oh, Jane.”

 

Maura lowered her head into her hands and let out a groan.

 

_This cannot be happening. Not now._

Choosing an outfit and drying her hair didn’t take as long as Maura had hoped it would and, quickly, she had run out of ways to busy herself in her tiny guest bedroom.

 

Maura opened her door and stuck her head out, looking for any sign of life. Finding the house still uncomfortably quiet, she padded down the stairs and into the living room.

 

“Hi” a voice croaked out from the body curled into the armchair closest to the door.

 

Harriet looked awful. Even in the dim light of early evening, it was easy to tell she had been crying. Maura walked into the room and sat herself in the opposite chair.

 

“I think we need to talk” she whispered, her scratchy voice breaking the silence.

 

Harriet nodded. “Yeah.”

 

“Would you like me to make you some tea?” Maura offered, needing to find a way to occupy her mind while she worked out exactly how to broach the awkward subject of their kiss. Harriet shook her head.

 

“There’s some wine in the fridge…” Maura nodded at her friend’s suggestion and walked into the kitchen. Plucking two glasses from the draining board, she turned them over and filled them, emptying the bottle.

 

With a shaking hand, she walked back into the sitting room and passed one of the glasses to Harriet.

 

Before she had even sat down, Harriet began to speak. “Tell me about her. Tell me about Jane.”

 

Maura took a gulp of her wine, disappointed when it didn’t burn on the way down her throat, and coughed. “She… she’s my best friend.”

 

Harriet gave her a pointed look. “Maura, I think we both know she’s more than that.”

 

Maura shook her head. “She’s my best friend. If you asked her, that’s what she’d say. We’re best friends. I… I’d never had a best friend before. Not really. We… we had such a bond and I spent so long thinking that that’s the way you felt when you were best friends. That a best friend made your heart skip a beat when they smiled, or made your stomach flip when they winked at you. I… I wanted to be close to her but I didn’t know what it meant. I thought it was normal.”

 

Maura took a drink from her now half-empty glass. “When she started dating Casey- the army captain- I was jealous. I knew I was. But I put it down to the fact that I had never had a best friend before, and that I didn’t know how to share. I… I went on a few dates with guys, I tried to distract myself that way, but my dating history is a bit of a disaster. When I met the one guy who actually meant something to me, who made me feel more than lust, I chose her.”

 

Harriet put her glass on the coffee table and watched as her friend took a deep sigh and ran a hand through her hair.

 

“He had a daughter. We… we got on so well. But she and her mom moved to New Mexico for work. And Jack took a job and followed them so he could still be a part of his daughter’s life.”

 

“Sounds like he was a good guy.”

 

“He was. Is. And a brilliant father. I could have followed him. It would have been so easy to find a job and go with him, but I stayed. Jane was going through some awful things, and I chose to stay with her.”

 

“Why, Maura?”

 

“Because I loved her more.”

 

Maura began to fidget with her hands, before clasping them together in her lap.

 

“I chose her. I stayed. But then she took this job at the FBI and left… left to be with Cameron and…” Maura stifled a sob.

 

“She left me. She chose him and she left me.”

 

Harriet moved to sit next to her friend, pulling her into her body as she cried. Her small frame convulsed with each deep breath as Harriet’s hand ran gently up and down her back. “It’s okay” she whispered.  “You’re okay.”

 

As Maura relaxed, she leaned away from Harriet and wiped her eyes. “I’m just so frustrated, you know? If I had just said something… anything… this whole situation could have been so different. But now I can’t imagine life without her by my side- I can’t go back to Boston and survive without Jane.”

 

“I get it”, Harriet reassured her friend. “And I know what you need.”

 

Maura’s eyes met Harriet’s. “What do I need?”

 

Harriet stood up and walked towards Maura’s chair, leaning down to pick up her glass.

 

“More wine.”

 

Standing up, Maura followed her friend into the kitchen. “I don’t have any more wine” Harriet explained from her position, crouched in front of a cupboard, shifting bottles and jars to the side as she searched for what she wanted. “But there is…”

 

Standing up, Harriet clutched a bottle of gin.

 

“Our old friend.”

 

As Harriet busied herself in the kitchen, producing limes and ice and tonic water from the depths of her refrigerator, Maura stood back and watched. Alone for a moment with her thoughts, she realised that- already- some of her anxiety was gone. She had been bottling up her feelings for so long that even she could no longer estimate the emotional weight she had been carrying.

 

It had been years since she had first realised exactly how deeply her feelings for Jane ran. But she kept her silence and watched as her friend’s life moved forward, away from hers. Still, she had been there. After breakups, arguments, broken off engagements and even a miscarriage, it was always Maura by Jane’s side. She had made it her mission to always be there.

 

At the back of her mind, there was an ever-present fear. The fear that confessing her feelings to Jane would mean losing her forever.

 

It was too much to bear.

 

And so she said nothing.

 

“Here. Drink.” Harriet pressed a cold glass into Maura’s hands and she took a sip. The gin was strong enough to leave her lips tingling as she drank. Strong enough to distract her from her thoughts, even for a moment.

 

“Do you remember when we lived off-campus?” Harriet asked as the two women walked back to the sitting room.

 

“On Lincoln Way? Of course I do.” Maura thought back to the first house she had lived in after med school. Harriet was still a PhD candidate and Maura was about to begin her first year of her residency.

 

“And the gin night? When we drank the bottle?”

 

Maura laughed loudly, surprising herself. “Oh, yeah! Oh, I remember the hangover.”

Harriet grimaced. “It was terrible.”

 

In comfortable silence, the two women drank, thinking back to their college days.

 

“Do you remember kissing me that night?” Maura asked, the gin already loosening her lips.

 

Harriet coughed. “I… I thought I’d blocked that out!”

 

Maura shook her head. “I’d forgotten about it until now. I… I think we were both blind drunk by that point. You were half asleep on my shoulder and we were just drunkenly rambling about nothing and you turned my head and kissed me.”

 

Harriet was red. Maura wasn’t sure whether to blame the embarrassment or the gin.

 

“I’ve always been an affectionate drunk” she joked, taking another sip but never taking her eyes off Maura.

 

“Anyway,” Harriet gestured to her friend with her glass, “I don’t remember you complaining.”

 

Maura shrugged. “I’d just broken up with Garrett. I was lonely and it… it felt nice.”

 

“Of course it did. I’m an excellent kisser.”

 

Harriet’s comment fell into silence, the atmosphere in the room growing heavier as both women processed her words.

 

“It felt nice today, too” Maura whispered, half-hoping that Harriet was too lost in her own thoughts to hear her.

 

“Yeah.” Her reply was laced with sadness.

 

Maura took another drink. “What do you…” Maura began, not sure where her sentence was taking her.

 

“You know, we’re both frustrated. And lonely. And sad. If… if it’s going to make us feel better we could always…” Harriet shook her head, as if she was trying to rid her mind of the words that were already pouring out of her mouth.

 

“Sorry. That’s the gin talking.” Harriet’s piercing eyes locked with Maura’s as she spoke, flirting and searching at the same time.

 

Maura took a long drink, taking the time to think. She was always such a calculated risk-taker. Everything was weighed up in terms of pros and cons; but now Maura realised her calculations had always factored in Jane.

 

Jane who was miles away. Miles away in bed with Agent Davies.

 

“Fuck it” she muttered to herself, draining her glass.

 

Standing, Maura walked over to her friend and pulled her out of her chair. Careful not to knock her drink, Maura pressed their bodies together and looked into Harriet’s eyes.

 

“Are you sure?” She asked gently, her nerves obvious from the tone of her voice.

 

Harriet nodded, sighing loudly as Maura’s lips crashed into hers.

 


	12. Problem Solving

The bright light of day burst through the curtains as Maura opened her eyes. 

Turning sideways, squinting at the headache quickly building behind her temple, she realised where she was. 

Sitting up sharply, Maura pulled the sheets up to cover her bare chest. 

“You know, it’s probably a bit late for that”. 

Harriet’s voice cracked as she spoke, her hand resting on her head. Clearly, she was experiencing the same pain.

Maura leaned back into the headboard and closed her eyes. 

“I hate gin.”

A hand quickly found hers below the duvet and squeezed comfortingly. “Me too.”

Almost as soon as it had happened, the contact was gone. Harriet turned her body away from Maura and slowly sat up, revealing the smooth, uninterrupted skin of her back. Reaching down, she picked up a t-shirt and threw it on before pulling a pair of black panties out of her drawer. 

“Coffee?” 

With her hand blindly searching the bedside table for her glasses, Maura nodded. 

Taking advantage of having a quiet moment to herself, Maura stretched and tried her best to process what was happening. 

She felt guilty. Guilty, not for betraying Jane, but for taking advantage of a woman who was dealing with her own grief. A woman she was here to support as a friend. Jane wasn’t important in this situation- Maura was sure the woman never spared a thought for her best friend after a night with Agent Davies. 

It wasn’t her problem.

This was between Maura and Harriet. 

Harriet was already sat, coffee in hand, at the table when Maura appeared downstairs. Smiling as she walked into the room, Harriet lowered the papers she was reading and offered her friend a seat. 

“It’s fresh” she said, gesturing to the pot of coffee sat between them. 

Maura took a sip and savoured the taste. A good cup of coffee was her favourite medicine. 

“Maura”. She looked up from her cup, meeting Harriet’s gaze. “I think we need to speak to Dr Kaplowitz today. He’ll be able to help us.”

Maura nodded and went back to her coffee. Obviously Harriet was happy to ignore the elephant in the room for now. 

The two women continued to dance around the subject of their evening activities as they walked into the city. Maura hadn’t seen much of central Oxford since she had arrived, and she was looking forward to spending a couple of hours traipsing around the city’s hallowed colleges and university buildings after their meeting. 

Harriet explained that Dr Kaplowitz had been a relatively recent placement at the university. His research focussed on the history of mathematics, specifically ciphers and codes, and Rachel had spent a lot of time in his company. 

Victoria College was set back from the road, behind a high stone wall. Dr Kaplowitz was waiting for them in the doorway when they arrived. 

“Ladies”. Dr Kaplowitz kissed their hands, his charismatic smile causing both women to blush slightly. “Please, follow me.”

The professor led them down a long corridor filled with portraits and what looked to be expensive ornaments and statues. “I’m sorry about the clutter” he said as they walked. “When any other college is being renovated, we become the dumping ground. And because we only take postgraduate students, the groundsmen seem to be under the impression that we have the extra space.”

The older man shook his head as he turned the corner, reaching for a key from his breast pocket. The office door clicked open and the professor gestured for the women to enter. “Take a seat. Can I get you anything to drink?”

Maura shook her head. “No thank you, professor. I’m fine.” Harriet agreed. 

“So. Rachel.”

Elias Kaplowitz pulled an antique chair over from the corner of the room and sat down opposite the two women. “I must say, her death came as an awful shock. That poor woman had been through so much.”

“I’m sorry… what do you mean by that?” Maura questioned.   
“Well, Rachel lost a dear friend from Bletchley a few months ago. An older fellow, I believe. No idea of his name, though. She was the one who found him. Dead.”

Maura glanced at Harriet, who looked as shocked as she was. 

“She never said…” Harriet began. 

“No. I doubt she would have said anything, my dear. She was quite shaken. Still, her work was what mattered to her and I suppose that is why you are here.”

Maura nodded. “Yes. We… well, I’m a medical doctor and Harriet is a historian, but neither of us have ever spent any time with codes or ciphers. It’s all quite new.”

The professor leaned back in his chair, his hands resting in his lap. “Where to start? Well, codes and ciphers are two very different things. A code is used for storage. It’s a way of mapping one thing onto something else. Usually by shortening it. A cipher, however, is a translation. A cipher’s purpose is security.

Rachel’s Bletchley work wasn’t particularly about either. She was focussed on the people who worked there, but she found an interest in ciphers. Not so much the enigma machine or the Lorenz, but old-fashioned secret messages. Pen and paper stuff.”

Maura leaned in, listening intently. 

“She didn’t have much time for the machine ciphers, really. That was what she used me for- it’s my area of expertise and she knew I would provide her with the information she needed to move her own ideas forward.”

“Professor, what kind of methods was Rachel able to use?”

Elias’ eyes flicked towards Maura, the deep crow’s feet exaggerating the intensity of his stare. Noting the subtle shift in her body language, he quickly relaxed.

“Basic stuff. Caesar boxes. Substitution ciphers. Key words. It was just fun and games.”

Maura caught Harriet’s eye, hoping that a pointed look was enough to get her friend to make the excuses they needed to leave. 

“Well, if that’s the case I think we’ll leave you to your work.”

Dr Kaplowitz stood as the two women rose from their seats. “If you have any questions, please feel free to email me.”

As they walked out of the college and onto the main road, Maura spoke. “We need to find a coffee shop or something. I have an idea.”

“Follow me”.

Harriet led them down a meandering side street, one side of the pavement completely full with bicycles. Rather than slow down to allow the slew of tourists to pass them, Harriet grabbed Maura’s hand and pulled her into the road. 

They didn’t let go of one another’s hands until they reached the door of the café. “You get a table” Harriet suggested, sensing Maura’s desperation to begin working on her idea. “Coffee?” Maura nodded and walked to the back of the room, finding a quiet corner table and pulling out a pen. 

Quickly, she wrote the alphabet in large lower-case letters across one of the café’s napkins. Harriet placed a steaming cup in front of her and sat down. 

“What’s up?” She asked, sensing Maura was stalling. “What do you need?”

Maura shook her head. “A key word. What would Rachel have used?”

Harriet leaned back in her chair. “Well, I don’t know of any pets. And I don’t think her ex-boyfriend is a likely candidate.” Maura scribbled their nine-letter code in the corner of the napkin, circling it heavily in frustration. 

“Tell me again what the note said.”

“I told you. My name and that” she pointed to the code. “Nothing else.”

Quickly, Maura began to work out their new alphabet as Harriet sat and watched in amazement. 

Sensing she had an audience, Maura explained as she wrote. “It’s a simple substitution. Elias mentioned it and it made perfect sense. All you do is replace the first letters of the alphabet with a key word or phrase, using each letter only once, and then substitute in the letters you haven’t used.”

Maura turned the napkin to her friend, who glanced with confusion at her scribbled handwriting. “Your name was her key.”

Underneath the usual ABC, the next line read:

H A R I E T M O G N B C D F J K L P Q S U V W X Y Z

“So then all we have to do is pick out the letters of our code, and see what it said originally.”

Harried sat back in admiration as Maura quickly found each of the nine letters and scribbled down its counterpart. 

DEPRUPGUQ  
MERCURIUS

“Well, it’s kind of a word” Harriet surmised. “What does it mean?”

Maura shrugged. “That’s what we need to find out.”


	13. Quiet the Chatter in the Monkey Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning that this chapter does have some M-rated stuff in it.

“This is impossible.” Maura’s usually composed demeanour was slipping as she leaned back in her seat, a hand resting against her forehead as she closed her eyes.

 

She had been scouring through Rachel’s research and the papers from her office for hours, yet still she had more questions than answers. Each page seemed to throw up a new dilemma and it was all getting too much. Her head was swimming with problems, and she couldn’t see a way out.

 

“I mean”, she continued to think out loud, not really caring at this point whether Harriet was listening, “why was she even in Bedford?”

 

Harriet shrugged. “I have no idea. Look, you’ve done a lot of reading. Why don’t we just leave…”

 

“It makes no sense.” Maura cut in. “If she was going to Bletchley the next morning, she could have travelled from Oxford. And if she was going to stay in a hotel, there are closer towns than Bedford. If she was in Bedford, it was for a reason.”

 

Harriet nodded. “I agree. But we don’t have that information, okay?” She tried to keep her tone gentle as she spoke. “I think it’s time we left this to the police. We’re going to end up getting caught up in this, and both of us have lives to get back to.”

 

“But she shouldn’t have been there. I don’t think you quite understand what I’m implying. If Rachel was in Bedford, then she was most likely there to meet someone. And that someone may well be her killer.”

 

“Maura.”

 

“And I still have no idea what Mercurius is. Is it a name? A person? Another code? I just have no idea, and there’s nothing in the literature we have here about it and I just want to…”

 

Harriet pressed her lips firmly against Maura’s. As she pulled away, she smiled into Maura’s wide open eyes. “You need to learn to switch off.”

 

Maura nodded, ignoring the warning voice in her head. “Maybe you should show me how” she whispered, the seductive tone in her voice simultaneously sending a shiver down Harriet’s spine and through Maura’s stomach.

 

Leaning in, Harriet once again took Maura’s lips in her own as she ran her hand up to tangle itself in honey blonde curls. Moving closer, she lowered herself onto Maura’s lap, straddling her firm thighs and deepened their kiss.

 

“Hmm” Maura hummed at their contact, feeling her body (and her resolve) weaken as Harriet’s hand began to massage the sensitive skin of her neck. Needing to feel something _more_ , Maura pressed her hands into the back pockets of Harriet’s jeans and pulled her forwards. Slowly, her hands kneaded the firm flesh, forcing the woman on top of her to move with her in a rocking motion.

 

Harriet threw her head back as Maura’s lips and tongue traced along her chest, marking out the lines of her protruding collar bone. Their hips rocked together and both women moaned audibly as the friction increased.

 

“We should” Harriet began, panting, her eyes darting towards the stairs.

 

“Yep.” Maura stood, her hands gripping Harriet’s thighs as she leaned in for another bruising kiss, giving in to her physical desire. With the darker-haired woman’s legs wrapped around her waist, Maura stood, kicking the chair over behind her has she moved. Stepping carefully over the papers they had been studying, Maura tried to best to keep her balance as Harriet’s lips pressed against her neck. Losing her balance as teeth grazed her skin, she knocked into a side table and watched as a lamp and a vase fell to the floor.

 

“Don’t you dare stop to clean” Harriet growled into her ear, taking her soft lobe into her mouth. “I want you.”

 

Reaching the bedroom, Maura threw Harriet down and crawled on top of her. Leaning in, her hips pressed against Harriet’s centre and she felt the woman’s legs grip tightly around her middle once again. Between kisses, Maura pulled off her top and threw her bra to the floor. Harriet’s mouth quickly attached itself to the newly exposed flesh and, as her teeth lightly grazed a rosy nipple, Maura’s mind went blank.

 

/

 

The lights were on.

 

The living room floor was covered in paper.

 

A chair had been tipped over.

 

But nobody seemed to be in there.

 

Jane moved away from the window and rapped lightly on the door.

 

/

 

“Oh fuck!”

 

Harriet threw her head back as Maura’s fingers entered her.

 

Quickly finding her rhythm, Maura used her tongue to trace circles around her swollen centre before drawing her sensitive nub into her mouth.

 

It wasn’t long before the woman before her came apart, shuddering as she gripped at the bedsheets.

 

/

 

Shards of glass crunched under her boots.

 

The remnants of a light bulb and a vase carpeted the floor at the entrance to the living room.

 

Stepping into the space, Jane’s mind catalogued the evidence as her heart raced.

 

This looked like a crime scene.

 

This could be a crime scene.

 

A sound, maybe a voice, travelled from upstairs.

 

Walking quickly, Jane followed.

 

/

 

“Oh!”

 

Harriet couldn’t help but smile as she watched Maura’s expression change. Her fingers continued to thrust as she pressed her lips to her centre.

 

“Oh God!”

 

Maura threw her head back as Harriet used her mouth to stimulate the sensitive flesh of her throbbing core. Closing her eyes, Harriet deepened the contact and quickened the pace of her fingers.

 

“J… Jane!”

 

Maura’s walls began to quiver, a warm pool forming between her thighs.

 

“Jane!”

 

The soft cotton of the bed sheet folded as Maura’s fists grappled against the mattress.

 

Her eyes wide, she felt her orgasm pulse powerfully through her body.

 

The door opened.

 

Dark eyes met hers.

 

“Jane!”

 

Maura pulled away, sitting herself up, and grappled behind her. Quickly, she pulled a pillow over her head and pressed it against her body, covering as much flesh as she could.

 

Harriet stayed frozen in her place, covered mostly by the sheets.

 

Time seemed to stop.

 

The three women simply stared, each trying to make sense of what was happening.

 

The pressure in the room built, the atmosphere stifling and uncomfortable.

 

Silence.

 

Maura opened her mouth and took a breath. “What are y…”

 

The bedroom door flew shut and Jane’s heavy footsteps made their way down the stairs.

 

The front door slammed.

 

Maura pulled herself to her feet, throwing on a hoodie, a pair of sweatpants and Harriet’s running shoes. As she approached the door, she glanced back at Harriet. “I’m sorry. I have to…”

 

Harriet lifted a hand, silencing her friend.

 

“Just go.”

 

/

 

“Jane!”

 

“Jane, stop!”

 

Maura shouted as loud as she could as she ran down the street, trying to catch up with the angry stomping of her best friend.

 

“Jane! Wait!”

 

Pausing on the corner to catch her breath, Maura watched as Jane turned slowly to face her.

 

Even in the dark, lit only by street lamps, it was clear that she had been crying.

 

“Jane!”

 

As Maura began to run again, Jane hailed a taxi and climbed in.

 

The red tail lights faded as the car rounded the corner and headed into the city.

 

“JANE!”

 


	14. The Mercurius Letter

Maura couldn’t sleep.

 

There was no point in even trying.

 

She had called Jane. She had called Jane hundreds of times. But Jane had switched off her phone.

 

Harriet busied herself upstairs, but Maura had no idea what to say, and so she stayed put.

 

The living room was still a mess. First, Maura took care of the glass, making sure that every shard had been picked up and the floor was clear. Taking a look around the room, Maura set her eyes on the scattered paperwork and began to collect it. Arms piled high with research proposals, appendices and Rachel’s thesis, Maura made her way over to the box in the corner and dropped them in. Pushing the armchairs to one side, she checked to make sure no more glass had somehow made its way under the paperwork and across the room.

 

A folded sheet of paper peeked out from underneath one of the armchairs. Picking it up carefully, Maura opened it and began to read, settling herself into one of the chairs as her eyes scanned the beautiful cursive script on the page.

 

_March 4 th, 1951_

 

_My darling Iris,_

_I had hoped that this letter was one I would never have to write. It pains me greatly that I am left to communicate with you in this way but, alas, I fear I must. My health is declining at a rapid pace and as you, my dearest wife, already know, I am not long for this world. By the time you are reading this, I will have passed on._

_I am so lucky to have shared my time with you, my dear. I could not have imagined a better wife for myself than one with such wit and intelligence as you. As I leave you in this world, you must go on with the knowledge that I spent every day loving you with my whole heart._

_Before I leave this Earth, I wish to share with you the secrets of my war. Our war. I know nothing of your life at Bletchley aside from the number of the hut you worked in, and I know that this is how Mr Churchill hoped it would be. A secret is a secret. But, alas, I love you far more than I love my country and I cannot go to the grave without asking you to protect my legacy. And so I leave you, my dearest Iris, with my Bletchley story._

_In 1941, I was approached by one of Churchill’s generals and ordered to begin work on a communications device to rival the Enigma. He called it Operation Mercurius. It was to be used by allied troops in order to send encrypted messages between camps and such. The operation was a success and my machine was taken by government officials for testing._

_I had heard whispers that Mr Turing had made great leaps with his own machine. The war seemed to end rather quickly after that and I fear my machine was never replicated or used in the field._

_When we were sent home, my workshop was cleared of all materials. I was allowed to keep my tools but, when I wrapped them in their holster, I hid my draft copy of the blueprint inside. Nobody ever checked, and so I brought them home._

_When you thought I was out tinkering with my motorcycle in the garden shed, I was building my own version of the machine. Please don’t think me selfish, but I wanted my legacy to be more material than just a blueprint._

_Please, my darling wife, once I am gone, you must keep my secret safe. In the wrong hands, a machine such as this could be a very dangerous thing indeed._

_I love you, Iris._

_Henry._

 

Folding the letter neatly back in half, Maura leaned back in the armchair and closed her eyes. Mercurius was a machine. A machine that only Henry and Iris, Rachel and Maura knew existed.

 

A quick online search found Henry’s obituary. He had only lived for three more days after the letter was dated.

 

Curious about Iris, Maura searched through Rachel’s acknowledgements for a mention of her name. If she had known her, maybe that was how the letter had ended up in her possession.

 

Finding nothing, she tapped ‘Iris Pickering’ into a genealogy website.  Iris had outlived her husband by some years. Marrying again, she had given birth to a son in the late 1950s. Feeling the exhaustion begin to weigh her down, Maura scribbled down his name and vowed to try and contact him in the morning.

 

Finding a blanket in the corner of the small sitting room, Maura threw it over herself, turned off the light and closed her eyes.

 

Her mind began to slow, her focus turning from Henry and Mercurius back to Jane. Back to the tearful face of her best friend staring out of a cab window as she drove away into the night.

 

There were so many things she needed to say to her, so many questions to ask. As Maura finally let her exhaustion consume her, she felt an odd sensation of comfort.

 

Whatever reason Jane had, she was there.

 

Jane was there for her.


	15. The Confrontation

“I’m going to the office”.

 

Harriet announced her presence loudly, thrusting a hot cup of coffee into Maura’s hands.

 

“I need to catch up on work and spend a bit of time not thinking about any of this” the woman gestured around her; Maura knew she was included.

 

“Okay.”

 

“I’ll email Kaplowitz when I get there. See if he knows anything about Mercurius.” Maura opened her mouth to speak, to tell her friend everything she had found the night before, but she was silenced. “Once I’m done with him, I’m going to pass everything we have onto the police. Detective Greenly is in charge of this case, not us.”

 

Harriet slipped on her boots and walked towards the front door. Opening it, she turned back to Maura.

 

“You need to talk to Jane.”

 

/

 

Jane was pacing.

 

She had finally turned her phone back on to find over one hundred missed calls and messages.

 

She hadn’t replied to any of them.

 

She simply placed her phone on the hotel bed.

 

And paced.

 

Moving her feet seemed to help move her mind along. It stopped her fixating on one issue; helped her process. But all the walking in the world couldn’t stop her asking questions about what she had walked in on the night before.

 

The image of Maura, writhing and groaning in ecstasy, was imprinted on her mind. She couldn’t erase it. Her mind replayed the scene over and over, picking it apart using her detective skills.

 

She had a lot to process. A lot to understand. But only one part of the whole scene had made her want to run.

 

Maura, eyes closed and with another woman’s head between her legs, had moaned her name. _Jane,_ she had said. _Oh, Jane._ Before she had opened her eyes. Before she knew she was in the room, Maura had said- moaned- her name.

 

Still, Jane was in Oxford for a reason.

 

To keep her best friend safe.

 

Checking it was now a reasonable hour, Jane relented. Picking up her phone, she dialled a familiar number.

 

“Is now a good time?” she asked quietly. “I think we need to talk.”

 

/

 

“Come in.”

 

Maura opened the door to find Jane on the other side, looking as pale and exhausted as she was. Jane took a moment to look around before slipping off her boots and walking into the house.

 

“Where’s your friend?” Jane asked, not entirely sure what to call the woman she had only ever seen at the apex of her best friend’s thighs.

 

“She went to her office. I think she needed some space.”

 

The room fell silent for a moment, both women taking their time and gathering their thoughts.

 

“Maur, what happened last night…”

 

“Jane, why are you here?”

 

The women spoke simultaneously.

 

“How did you know I was here?” Maura, impatient, tapped her fingers against her folded arms as she waited for Jane’s response.

 

“I… I thought you might need help. Nina… Nina told me about the murder.”

 

“Jane, I’m a grown woman. You don’t need to be chasing me all over the world. Murder isn’t your job, not anymore.”

 

“No, but…”

 

“I just don’t understand why you can’t leave things alone. This… this part of my life doesn’t involve you. But you just walk straight in like it’s normal.” Maura’s voice grew louder as she spoke. “I was just starting to get used to living without you, just starting to get my life together and then you show up! You just… you show up in the middle of the night and…”

 

“I wouldn’t have to show up if you didn’t attract trouble everywhere you go!” Jane shouted in response.

 

“I do not attract trouble. I’m only here for Harriet.”

 

“Then Harriet is in danger, too.”

 

Maura took in Jane’s words and relented, her voice calmer. “Danger?”

 

“Do you really think I would have travelled half way around the world if I thought everything was going to be okay?”

 

“No.” Maura led Jane into the kitchen and flicked on the kettle. “Coffee?”

 

Jane nodded. “I think we have quite a lot to discuss.”

 

With a cup of dark coffee in her hand, Jane told Maura everything that Agent O’Neill had told her. From Rachel being his CI through to the murder of her friend, the international task force and the large amount of evidence that had been found in the man’s house.

 

“Oh, God.” Maura set her cup down and ran a hand through her hair.

 

“So this is so much bigger than just Rachel.” Jane concluded.

 

“It is. I… Thank you. I would never have known that. Although, you could have called.”

 

“I could have,” Jane shrugged, “but I needed to see you. I needed to know you were okay. You… I think you find it easier to lie on the phone”.

 

“Anyway” Jane continued, “what have you found?”

 

Maura led Jane into Harriet’s sitting room, where she had drawn out a large, detailed map of everything she now knew. At the bottom of the page, Jane spotted a name.

 

A name she knew.

 

“Martin Richards.”

 

“Yes. Martin Richards is the son of Iris Pickering. Her first husband was the man who created Mercurius and…Well, I was hoping to get in contact with him and find out a little bit more before…”

 

Jane cut her off, a firm hand gripping Maura’s forearm and a panicked look in her eyes.

 

“Martin Richards is dead.”

 

“What? Jane, how do you…?”

 

“Martin Richards is the name of the man Rachel found dead in his house. The man whose murder started all of this.”

 

“Shit.”

 

/

 

 It didn’t take long for the two women to fall back into their old routine. Over another cup of coffee, they worked completely in sync to put together all of the information they had.

 

“So the guy who was killed,” Jane began, spotting the gaps in their knowledge instinctively, “must have had something to do with Rachel. They must have known one another.”

 

Maura nodded, adding the question to their list.

 

“But he can’t have killed her, because he was already dead. “

 

“Exactly.”

 

“And the person who did kill her? That person must have been meeting her in Bedford. Like you said, it’s not likely that she would stay there instead of closer to the venue unless she was meeting somebody.”

 

“And that somebody could well have had information- or promised her information- about Mercurius.”

 

“I think she asked the wrong person.”

 

“I would agree.”

 

Jane leaned back in her seat and sighed.

 

“So where do we go from here?”

 

Maura looked up at her friend and sighed. “I can’t help but feel that that’s a loaded question”.

 

Jane shrugged. “I guess it is. But I’m sick of sitting in this house, and I’m sure you are too. So what shall we do?”

 

Maura checked her watch. “I don’t know what time Harriet is likely to be back, but we could go and explore Oxford for a bit? I’d like to take you out to Bletchley, but that will have to wait until tomorrow.”

 

“Can we get lunch?” Jane asked, rising from her seat.

 

“Yes, but no fake English accents.”

 

Jane gasped in mock disgust. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

 

“Jane…”

 

“Fine. No accents. But you’re paying.”

 

Maura smiled, deepening the dimples in her cheeks.

 

“I’ve missed this” she admitted.

 

“Me too.”


	16. There's Always A Bench

“So how many times have you visited Oxford?” Jane asked as she spread jam across the warm, homemade scone on her plate.

 

“Three or four.” Maura replied, taking a delicate sip from her tea. “Once as a child, when my father spoke at the Oxford Union, once or twice after college to visit Harriet and… now.”

 

Maura stopped her sentence and watched as her friend attempted to politely pick up the scone from her plate, laden with jam and clotted cream, and take a bite. Jane’s eyes widened as she chewed, lifting her hand to wipe the crumbs away from her lips and chin.

 

“It’s good, right?” Maura asked, smiling. Jane nodded, her mouth still full.

 

“’s ‘licious” she mumbled, her hand covering her face as she continued to chew.

 

“It goes great with tea, too. Would you like me to pour you a cup?” Jane nodded.

 

“You know, I always wanted to take you to England. Obviously not like this… under better circumstances. But I always thought we’d visit together at some point.”

 

Jane smiled at her friend as she delicately passed her a china cup full of steaming amber liquid. It was obvious Maura wanted to keep things light, to discuss anything except the elephants in the room.

 

“Was your school far from here?”

 

Maura took a moment to think as she sipped her tea. “Not too far. My boarding school was in Surrey- it’s closer to London than we are now.”

 

“Did it look like Hogwarts?” Jane gestured around her to the vaulted ceilings and carved stone cornices of the café they were sitting in.

 

Maura shook her head. “No. No, it was slightly more modern. The main school building was built in the 19th century- much newer than most Oxford buildings. As an American, it’s hard to grasp how old the rest of the world is. Oxford university opened in the year 1096.”

 

“That’s crazy!” Jane commented before allowing her friend to continue.

 

“Obviously it was nowhere near as big then, and it didn’t really start to grow until King Henry II banned people from travelling to study at the University of Paris in the early 12th century but…”

 

Maura’s sentence trailed into silence. Jane’s eyes creased at the corners as she smiled.

 

“What?” Jane asked, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

 

“You’re smiling.” Maura commented.

 

“I… I’ve missed your facts. I’ve missed you.” Jane’s low, rough voice warmed Maura’s skin from the inside out.

 

“Me too. We… we can talk about it soon. I’ll find us a good bench.”

 

“Why do we always have to have these conversations at a bench?” Jane asked jokingly, her eyes lit up in a way Maura hadn’t realised she’d been missing.

 

“It’s where we do some of our best work.”

 

/

 

“Why is England so beautiful?” Jane groaned, taking in the view as the pair approached the entrance to Christ Church Memorial Garden.

 

“This is especially beautiful. My father brought me here as a child and told me all about the magic of this garden; it’s the inspiration for Alice in Wonderland. I remember sitting here, probably thirty years ago, with Arthur and listening as he read me the story.”

 

Jane smiled as Maura reminisced. Walking through the gardens, she breathed in the floral air. “I think I know why they write so many songs about the English and their country gardens.”

 

“There’s nothing like it.”

 

As the pair walked in silence through the meadows of Oxford, Jane took a moment to reflect. It had been a strange, unexpected turn to end up here so quickly after moving away. To end up back with Maura. To follow a mystery. To be, once again, on the edge of so much danger. The FBI had seemed like such a good choice. After everything that had happened over the past couple of years, from losing a baby to saying goodbye to Casey, Maura’s abduction, her mother’s mid-life crisis, it seemed sensible to move away and start again.

 

But there was a force, much bigger than her, pulling her- always- towards the golden-haired woman by her side.

 

Jane had always listened to her gut; followed her instincts. She wasn’t about to ignore the one tool she had come to rely on more than anything else.

 

“I found a bench!”

 

Maura gestured to the wooden seat, a few feet ahead of them, looking out onto the river.

 

As they approached, the silence between them grew. It wasn’t uncomfortable- it was never uncomfortable- but it hung in the air, stifling and heavy.

 

“We’ve got a lot to talk about”. Jane broke the silence.

 

Maura sighed deeply, a telling sign that what she wanted to say was important.

 

“I just can’t quite believe we’re here.”

 

Jane sat back and watched Maura as she spoke. “I… I was so prepared to let you go. To give you space and time so that you could settle without me. I… I don’t know how we ended up here.”

 

“Well, I followed you. Tell me what happened, Maura. After I left Paris.”

 

Maura closed her eyes, gathering her thoughts. “I… I couldn’t stay there. The penthouse felt wrong. The whole city felt wrong. I missed you. There was no way I was going to be able to write, so I travelled out. That was when Harriet called.”

 

Maura swallowed, taking a moment. There was so much more she could tell Jane, about Collioure and loneliness and endless, sad evenings drinking wine without letting it breathe and watching other people whilst trying not to cry. But Jane would only feel guilty. It wasn’t worth bringing up.

 

“She needed a friend, Jane. Someone who understood what was happening to her. I… I jumped on the first plane and…”

 

“And here we are.”

 

Jane subconsciously rubbed at her scars, looking away from her friend and out towards the Thames.

 

“Maura, what happened with Harriet… I don’t understand.”

 

“Do you want to know the truth?”

 

Jane nodded, still not looking at her friend.

 

“I…. I was lonely. She was there. It… it felt good.”

 

Maura scolded herself for holding back, hoping that a half-truth would be enough to prevent her skin from erupting into hives.

 

“Can we get past this?” Jane asked quietly, finally turning.

 

Maura looked up, searching dark eyes with her own. Looking for answers she secretly hoped would be close to the surface.

 

“I don’t know, Jane.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's still plenty of issues the girls need to work out... I promised a slow burn and I meant it! Comments are very welcome.


	17. What They Do Best

“Tell me what we know so far.”

 

Maura breathed a sigh of relief as Jane switched her focus.

 

“I’m here to help, Maura. Solving these things… it’s what we do best.”

 

“So, our victim Rachel Maloney was poisoned. I don’t know what with, but I know she died a painful death.”

 

“Can you get the autopsy report?”

 

Maura nodded. “I’ve been promised. I’ll follow up tomorrow.”

 

“Okay. So Rachel died the night before she was due to speak at a conference. In Bedford. In a hotel.”

 

“Yes, and I don’t understand why she was there. She had to have been meeting somebody; it wouldn’t make sense to stay there otherwise.”

 

“And she had been a witness to another murder, which is why she was a CI.”

 

“Martin Richards. His mother and her first husband were both employed at Bletchley; I don’t have the details, but he’s our Mercurius connection. Well, his mother’s first husband, but he’s been dead a long time.”

 

“And the FBI found planted evidence in Martin’s house from all sorts of operations. So he’s a big link. What do we know about him?”

 

“Not much.”

 

“Would you be able to request his autopsy report as well?” Jane asked, her mind working quicker than it had in over a month.

 

“I can try.”

 

Jane’s phone rang in her pocket. Picking it up, she couldn’t hide her smile as she answered just as she always had.

 

“Rizzoli.”

 

“Jane, it’s Agent O’Neill.”

 

“Oh, hello sir. I… I wasn’t expecting to hear from you. How can I help?”

 

“Quit the bullshit, Rizzoli. I have eyes everywhere and I know you’ve gone to Oxford. Dr Isles is already there, so I’m pretty sure you’re not just taking a vacation.”

 

“No… no sir.”

 

“Jane, I’m working alongside the British police on this. It’s an international operation but we’ve got nothing. No new leads, no communications from any of the suspects from the Martin Richards murder.”

 

“Sir, have you picked up any communications about Mercurius? It… it’s a machine Martin Richards’ father built at Bletchley. Just a hunch, but it could be connected.”

 

“Not that I know of. Look, I’ve spoken to your old bosses. I know I can’t keep you away from this; but please promise me you’ll stay safe.”

 

“I will, sir.” Jane took a moment to acknowledge the informal approval from the FBI. “Thank you, sir.”

 

“Keep me informed, Rizzoli. If you find anything, let us know.”

 

“I will.”

 

“Excellent. And Rizzoli?”

 

Jane took a breath. “Yes, sir?”

 

“Agent Davies sends his regards.”

 

/

 

“So, where are we now?”

 

Jane forced herself to focus on the case, ignoring the repeating voice of Agent O’Neill in her head as the pair made their way back through the city towards her hotel. Maura, of course, had overheard his comment, but was choosing not to say anything.  

 

“I need to see some autopsy reports. Harriet was going to email a professor friend from the university again and ask if he knew anything about Mercurius. He knows more about this stuff than any of us. I don’t know if she’s heard back from him. I haven’t spoken to her since…”

 

Jane nodded in acknowledgement. “Since I arrived?”

 

 “I should probably go back and speak to her. I’ll let her know about Agent O’Neill. Would… would you like to come back and meet her properly?”

 

Jane shook her head. “I should probably head back to the hotel. I haven’t slept since leaving DC. Plus, you guys need time to talk.”

 

“Okay. Well, I’ll call you later?”

 

Jane nodded. “Of course. I’ll be around.”

 

They didn’t hug. Not really. In Boston, when they saw one another every day, it wasn’t necessary to embrace one another to say hello or goodbye. But here, in a foreign country, in the middle of the street, their arms found one another.

 

Maura breathed deeply, taking in Jane’s familiar scent and allowing it to wash over her body and relax every muscle. “Thank you for coming. It… it means a lot.” Her voice was stoic and honest.

 

Leaning down, Jane pressed a subtle kiss to Maura’s hairline.

 

“Always.”

 

As she watched her friend walk away, Maura’s brain resumed its lightning-fast pace.

 

“Focus”, she whispered to herself as her legs carried her out of the city and up the hill towards Harriet’s house. “One step at a time.”

 

 

/

 

Harriet was sat quietly reading on the couch when Maura entered.

 

“Where’s Jane?”

 

Maura pulled off her shoes and removed her jacket before joining her friend in the living room and answering her question.

 

“She’s in her hotel. Jet lag finally caught up with her.”

 

“Did you talk to her?”

 

Maura sat heavily on the armchair across from her friend.

 

“About the case?”

 

“About what happened.”

 

“I… no.”

 

“Maura” Harriet’s warning stare burned as she caught Maura’s eyes. “You need to talk to her.”

 

“I do. But not now. You need me. Rachel needs us.”

 

“As soon as this is over, you need to talk to her. It’s not healthy. You can’t live like that.”

 

“Harriet?” Maura watched as her friend lowered her paper to meet her gaze. “Do you… regret what we did?”

 

Harriet shook her head and smiled. “Not at all. But it’s out of our systems now. I’ll be honest, Maura. I enjoyed it. I know you did too. But I can walk away knowing it didn’t mean anything for me. And, judging by the fact that you called me Jane the entire night, I’m going to assume that you feel the same.”

 

Maura flinched at the sound of her friend’s name. Gathering her thoughts, she answered.

 

“I… I do.”

 

“Cup of tea?” Harriet rose from her seat, placing a friendly hand on Maura’s shoulder.

 

“Yes please.”

 

Allowing herself to sink unceremoniously into the soft armchair, Maura sighed heavily. Her shoulders slumped as she allowed her body to respond to her exhaustion, her confusion, her helplessness.

 

Too exhausted to get up and ease her discomfort with some yoga poses, Maura simply sat and stared. For one night, she rationalised, it was easier to ignore the world and switch off.

 

Just for one night.


	18. A Beautiful Mind is Not Enough

Martin Richards’ autopsy file appeared in Maura’s inbox the next morning.

 

“I would like your expert opinion on this. Regards, S.A. Simon O’Neill”.

 

Maura read the message out loud as she scanned the document. Martin Richards had been a relatively healthy middle-aged man, the wear on his bones indicated that he had- in his youth- been a sportsman of sorts. Maura surmised, using the logic of where and when he had been raised, that he had been a cricket player.

 

His fingers had been broken just before he died. The blood pooled in the large hematomas on his face, neck and back looked to have been caused by the same instrument. Without her crime lab techs, her machines and her reference database, Maura was left with very little concrete evidence to support her theories.

 

“I hate guessing” she mumbled out loud, picking up a pen and scribbling notes in a messy cursive.

 

A cup of coffee was placed on the table beside her. Looking up, Maura smiled politely.

 

“I thought you might need it. You looked… stressed.”

 

Maura nodded, before reaching out and taking a sip from the mug. “I… I don’t like to guess. Ever. I base everything I do on concrete scientific evidence. I provide the puzzle pieces, the clues. It’s Jane’s job to work out how they go together. She trusts her gut. I… I don’t have such faith in the predictive power of my intestines.”

 

Harriet’s eyes creased at the corners.

 

“What?” Maura asked lightly.

 

“It’s just nice to see you like this. I always knew you were brilliant, but it’s amazing to see your mind at work.”

 

“Well, my mind is usually backed up by a mass spectrometer, a DNA database and fifteen members of staff.”

 

“But you’re the chief for a reason, Maura. Don’t doubt yourself. Come on, tell me what you’ve found.”

 

Maura leaned back in her chair and pushed her glasses up to the bridge of her nose.

 

“The coroner had done a very good job, I have to say. It’s all here. Well, mostly. Martin Richards was certainly tortured before he died. Lividity indicates he was tied to a chair for some time; the marks on his wrists are from rope. His fingers were broken with a small, metal instrument which seems to also match the circular bruises on his head and neck. Something heavy enough to break a bone with a minor amount of force applied.”

 

“A hammer?” Harried inquired.

 

“That’s what Dr Prendergast believes. Although the report is a little sketchy on the details of how he reached that conclusion. I would have to ask to make sure.”

 

“Okay, and is there anything else?”

 

“Cause of death was a single gunshot wound to the temple. He would have died instantly.”

 

“Oh God. That’s what Rachel saw? No wonder she was distant. It’s awful.”

Maura reached out to run a reassuring hand across her friend’s arm. “The best thing we can do now is find out who did this and catch them. I… I assure you, it does help. Rachel and Martin need closure.”

 

Harriet took a couple of shaky breaths, closing her eyes and sighing deeply. “They do. I do.”

 

Reaching for her phone, Maura tapped out a message. Catching Harriet’s eye she explained. “I’m texting Jane and asking her to come by. We need her help to be able to do this. For Martin. For Rachel.”

 

/

 

Jane rapped lightly on the painted door, for the first time taking in the quietness of the leafy, terraced street.

 

“Come in.” Maura smiled at her friend as she opened the door. “But do take off your shoes.”

 

Jane paused to pull off her boots, listening to the sounds of quiet conversation and laughter as Maura returned to the kitchen at the end of the hallway. She seemed contented here, and was obviously more than comfortable in Harriet’s presence. Jane was the outsider.

 

Bracing herself, she walked slowly towards the kitchen and gently pushed the door open.

 

“Jane! It’s lovely to see you. Can I get you a drink?” Harriet’s smile was genuine as she greeted the tall, dark woman lingering in the corner of her kitchen. Jane nodded. “Coffee would be great, thanks.”

 

As Harriet busied herself in the kitchen, Maura took over the conversation.

 

“Jane, we need your detective skills. Martin Richards’ autopsy file indicates that he was tortured. Dr Prendergast has proposed that he was hit several times with a small hammer, and that this was used to break his fingers. He… he was killed by a gunshot wound to the temple”.

 

Checking that Harriet was facing away from them, Maura pulled up the photograph on her computer to show Jane. “Looks professional” Jane commented. “Silencer?”

 

Maura nodded. “I’m almost certain. The bruising around the wound, the entry point… Dr Prendergast agreed.”

 

“So he was tortured. And then was executed when he didn’t give up whatever they were looking for. But what did he have?”

 

Maura looked across the kitchen, watching as Harriet approached the table with two mugs of coffee.

 

“Mercurius” Harriet spoke assuredly. “It has to be. That’s why Rachel was there. That… that’s probably what got her killed.”

 

Jane thanked Harriet for the coffee, picking up the mug and holding it in her hands as she spoke. “But why? Why would they want some stuffy old machine from the war?”

 

Maura shrugged.

 

“I’ll ask Dr Kaplowitz. I’m meeting him for dinner tonight.” Harriet suggested.

 

“Great.”

 

“And we” Maura gestured between herself and Jane, “will pay another visit to Bletchley. Jane, I think you need to see it to understand the background. I’ll call Professor Mountford and see if he can arrange for us- well, you- to meet the Bletchley Park Historical Preservation Society. Rachel had met with them before she died; they might have some answers. And you are more astute than me when it comes to reading people.”

 

Harriet nodded, looking between the two women. The change of pace was palpable; it excited her and terrified her in equal measure.

 

“Well, Jane. It was lovely to meet you… again. I… I have to go to the office before I meet with Dr Kaplowitz. I’ll see you later, Maura.”

 

Jane watched as Harriet left the room. She was polite, and smiled genuinely, but Jane had the feeling that she would fight dirty for what she believed was right.

 

She and Maura had that in common.

 

Returning her gaze to her friend, Jane took a sip of her coffee. “So, what do we do now?”

 

“We go to Bletchley.”

 


	19. Bletchley Revisited

“JANE!”

 

Maura braced herself against the dashboard of the car they had hired as Jane swerved harshly around a corner.

 

“I shouldn’t have let you drive. You’re a liability in any car, but this is something else!”

 

“Well, I’m sorry” Jane bit back, jokingly. “But you try driving a strange car from the wrong side of the vehicle, and on the wrong side of the road! It’s confusing!”

 

Maura leaned back in her seat, clutching the arm rest and fighting the childish urge to squeeze her eyes closed and ignore the dangers around them until they arrived at their destination.

 

“At least we didn’t get a stick. Most British cars have manual gears.”

 

Jane rolled her eyes. “In that case, I think we’d have been better off cycling.”

 

“Probably. At least then I’d have had a modicum of control over my fate.”

 

“I thought you didn’t believe in fate.”

 

Maura smiled at her friend. “Eyes on the road, Jane.”

 

/

 

With the car parked in the public car park for the museum, Maura took a moment to allow her heart rate to return to normal.

 

“I’m driving back”.

 

Jane scoffed at her friend’s suggestion. “Hey! I got the hang of it by the end.”

 

“Jane, you drove down that private road completely on the wrong side. What would you have done if something was coming the other way?”

 

Jane offered her hand out to her friend, pulling her out of the passenger seat.

 

“Well, if there had been a car coming the other way, I would have realised I was on the wrong side!”

 

Maura rolled her eyes. “Come on. We’re meeting the professor in ten minutes.”

 

/

 

 

“Dr Isles” Professor Mountford stretched out a hand for her to shake, “I hope you are well. I see you’ve brought a friend.”

 

As the professor turned to face her, Jane took his hand and shook it firmly. “Jane Rizzoli” she said with a smile, “FBI.”

 

Maura shook her head subconsciously. It didn’t sound right. It would never sound right.

 

“Ladies, I asked a few of the Historical Preservation Society to join us today. I thought, since you are preserving Rachel’s legacy, that they may be of more assistance than myself. I do have paperwork to attend to, but should you need me, I’ll be in my office.”

 

Professor Mountford walked slowly away from them, back towards his office. His tweed blazer hung loosely from his thin frame, his joints clearly swollen. “Have we cleared him?” Jane mumbled, hoping Maura would hear her. Maura shook her head. “I’m not sure; the police probably have. But is arthritis would have made it difficult to wield a hammer. Or a gun.”

 

“Dr Isles, we were sorry to hear about Rachel.”

 

An older woman with a clipped British accent stepped towards them, hand outstretched. “Marjorie Lawrence. Chair of the Bletchley Park Historical Preservation Society.”

 

“Please, call me Maura.”

 

After a round of introductions, Jane and Maura were prompted to take their places at a large, round table. Tea, cake and biscuits covered the surface.

 

“Please, help yourselves” one woman gestured to Jane, offering her a patterned china plate.

 

“Thank you” Jane said kindly, reaching out for a chocolate-covered cookie.

 

The women from the society were all at least seventy years old. It took Jane by surprise when they began to explain their purpose.

 

“The society began its life in a more covert group. When the secrets of Bletchley were still under government protection, certain former employees would meet a few times a year to discuss any rumours. You see, after the war, rumours began to fly about all sorts of covert operations. Some of them were true. Some of them were… ridiculous.”

 

“So, how did you all get involved?” Jane asked, finding herself fascinated by the idea that a project so large had remained a secret for so long.

 

“Our parents.” Marjorie explained. “We are, as some like to say, the children of Bletchley. My mother was a translator. Eileen’s father worked, we have found, in naval communications. Brenda’s parents met here- her father was fresh out of university when he was recruited.”

 

“It’s amazing” Jane commented with a smile. “So, now that the secret’s out, what do you do?”

 

Eileen, a smaller woman with wiry grey hair and thick glasses, turned to face them both. “We continue the legacy. Our job is to protect the truth of what happened here. A lot of people went to their graves still keeping this secret, our job is to make sure the world remembers them as heroes.”

 

“And what a wonderful job you are doing” Maura commented, raising her tea cup in a makeshift toast.

 

“And Rachel. How did she become involved?” Jane questioned.

 

“She had questions. At first, her focus had been purely on the roles women had here. It was an empowering time in history, and she found the shift in hierarchy fascinating. But later, before she- you know- died, she wanted to know more about particular people. The details.”

 

“Which people?” Jane probed gently.

 

“Iris and Henry Pickering. Hut four and hut twelve.”

 

“Did Rachel ever ask anything about Operation Mercurius?” Maura asked.

 

“Yes.” Marjorie answered. “She did. She… she didn’t quite have all the details. And, to be honest, neither did we. I’d never heard of it before she mentioned it.”

 

“Do you know if Rachel had much contact with anyone else here?”

 

Marjorie took a second to think. “No. I mean, aside from Professor Mountford and the team who run the archives.”

 

“The archives?”

 

“Oh yes. A lot of evidence was destroyed- burned- but we have everything that remained. Everything we could find is logged and stored here.”

 

Maura nodded in satisfaction as Jane continued to question. “And nobody suspicious has been around?”

 

The women all shook their heads. “No, no. There hasn’t been anybody new here, apart from Rachel, in over a year. We’re a small bunch, and shrinking fast.”

 

“Do you have a list of members I could copy? It would be helpful for our investigations.” Jane smiled sweetly at the women around her.

 

“Professor Mountford has a copy in his office. I’m sure he will be able to copy it for you before you go. We… we’re an intelligent bunch but I’m afraid email is a little out of our skill set.”

 

/

 

 Folding the list carefully and placing it in her back pocket, Jane walked a pace behind Maura as they made their way back to the car.

 

Her mind was heavy with questions. The case, the murder, sat at the fore as always, but she couldn’t shake the image of Maura’s toned form writhing in ecstasy, calling her name. The thought was enough to stir feelings deep in the pit of her stomach. Feelings she had successfully managed to ignore, to quash, for the last seven years. Watching the doctor’s golden ponytail swing gently as she walked, Jane felt herself smile.

 

Their path had always been chaotic, full of danger, risk and pain, but there was nowhere else she would rather be.

 

“Jane!”

 

Maura’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.

 

“I was kidding- you can drive if you want.”

 

Nodding, Jane walked around the car and took the keys from Maura’s waiting hand.

 

“Let’s go.”


	20. The Randolph Hotel

“You know; I think you would have been a brilliant detective in another life.”

 

“Really?” Maura looked across the car at Jane in confusion.

 

“Yeah. I mean, you’re a damn genius, you think of things nobody else does, you spot patterns… I think you’d have been really good.”

 

Looking out the window at the passing trees and fields, Maura smiled to herself. “Maybe. But I don’t think I could ever trust my instincts like you do.”

 

The car fell silent as they hit the rush-our traffic going into the city. Maura closed her eyes, leaning back against her seat. Her mind was still so full of questions and thoughts that she had forced herself to ignore. The case had to be her priority. Selfishly, she concluded, Rachel and Martin’s deaths gave her an excuse to not discuss her own feelings.

 

Jane had told her, not that long ago, that she had a tell. Changing subject, asking questions, sighing loudly were all signs that she had something important and, potentially, upsetting to say. She was aware of it now, more than ever, and Maura cursed herself for using the murder of two innocent historians to disguise the doubts and underlying feelings she was too afraid to bring up.

 

“Do you want to come up?”

 

Jane’s voice brought Maura back to her senses as she realised they were parked in the underground garage of the detective’s hotel.

 

Nodding, Maura followed her friend through the maze of cars and columns and through a side door into the lobby.

 

“Good choice!” Maura commented. The space was tastefully decorated to reflect its Georgian heritage, right down to the carved mahogany staircase that spiralled up to the first floor. Jane smiled sweetly.

 

“I thought you’d appreciate it. I didn’t even know what it was; I booked it last minute over the phone.”

 

The silence fell again as the two women climbed the stairs. Maura followed Jane’s purposeful stride through carpeted corridors until they reached a door.

 

Following Jane’s lead, Maura followed her friend into the spacious room.

 

“Can I get you a drink or anything? Tea? The coffee’s instant up here, I’m afraid.”

 

Maura shrugged. “Okay… Tea would be nice.” Her voice, timid, matched her posture as she found a space to sit at the end of the bed. Her body and mind were weary from days of over-thinking.

 

“Maur?” Jane’s concerned expression caused Maura to fold into herself. “What… I…” Jane visibly cursed herself, looking away from her friend. Taking a deep breath, she spoke again.

 

“I don’t like seeing you like this. I… I know something’s wrong. Please. Please just tell me what I did.”

 

Maura sighed, letting out some of the frustration she had been holding throughout their journey. Accepting a cup of peppermint tea from Jane’s scarred hands, she pulled herself off the bed, walking across the room to sit at the small table next to the window.

 

“Okay, if you won’t talk I will. There are things that need to be said.” Jane took a deep breath, watching her friend for any sign that she disagreed. Seeing nothing, she began.

 

“I… I travelled half way around the world for you. You were in danger and I knew, I _knew_ there was no way I could trust anyone else to do this. I had to see you. To know you were okay.”

 

Checking for any reaction from her friend, Jane continued, speaking gently- almost as if to a child.

 

“You scared me, Maura. You’re scaring me now. I… I had the feeling in Paris that there was something you weren’t saying. We had an amazing time, but I think we were both dreading saying goodbye again. But I hear nothing from you for two weeks, and then I arrive to this.” Jane gestured to Maura, sat silently. “I… I don’t understand what happened between you and Harriet. I mean, if you’re happy then I don’t care. But I don’t understand. Do you love her?”

 

Maura shook her head. When she spoke, her voice cracked. “No. I told you Jane.”

 

“Then why sleep with her?”

 

Making eye contact for the first time, Jane saw the exhaustion, the hurt, the pain of her friend. “Because” Maura sighed, taking a deep breath and looking out the window, “because I…” Tears began to form in her eyes. “Because I wanted to feel something.”

 

Jane crouched down beside her, running a reassuring thumb over her hand. “Maura.”

 

Jane’s voice sent a predictable wave of feeling through Maura’s otherwise numb body. Pulling her hand away, the doctor cradled it against her chest.

 

“I… I can’t”.

 

Standing, Maura began to walk towards the door. Jane, spotting her intentions, blocked her path, standing directly in front of her friend, her face painted with desperate concern.

 

“Come on. I don’t want to upset you, but I’m stuck. Maura, it’s obvious something is majorly wrong here but unless you let me in, I can’t help. And… and I don’t think you’re going to help yourself if I let you leave.”

 

Looking down, Maura let her friend guide her towards the bed.

 

“You can lay down. Look up at the ceiling. Talk as if I’m not here. Like that therapy nonsense you’re always talking about.”

 

Not even bothering to pull off her shoes, Maura took a moment to think before following Jane’s instructions. Feeling the bed dip, she knew her friend had laid down beside her. It was a situation they had been in so many times before, but this, she knew, was different.

 

After a moment of silence, Jane spoke, her voice more hesitant than before.

 

“You said my name.”

 

Maura gulped.

 

“Why did you say my name?”

 

Maura closed her eyes, arranging the words she needed in her mind.

 

“Jane, I…”

 

“Maur” Jane warned.

 

 _Like ripping off a band aid_ , Maura thought to herself.

 

“Because I was thinking of you.”

 

Jane exhaled loudly, but said nothing. After a moment, Maura spoke again.

 

“I’d never had a best friend before. I… I didn’t understand that what I was feeling- still feel- for you wasn’t entirely normal.” Turning slightly, Maura watched as Jane’s steady breaths lifted her loose t-shirt.

 

“I think my feelings for you have run deeper than friendship for a long time.”

 

There. She had said it.

 

“I think… no. I know I’m in love with you, Jane.”

 

Jane said nothing.

 

For what felt like hours, she lay, with her eyes closed, and breathed.

 

“I missed you so much”. Her gravel-laden voice finally explained.

 

Reaching across the large bed, Maura ran her hand over Jane’s.

 

“I tried, I really tried, to fit in in DC. I went to stuff, I talked to people. But none of it felt _right._ And I didn’t realise why until Nina called.”

 

Taking a deep breath, Jane turned to face Maura.

 

“I don’t know how to live without you. But I… I can’t deal with all of this.” Jane gesticulated as she spoke. “The things I’ve seen; the way you’ve been acting. Maura, I can’t suddenly turn around and say ‘yes, I’m wildly in love with you’ when you’re acting so selfishly. This isn’t like you. And I don’t like it. But, until something changes, we’ll stay stuck. Because as much as I love Maura Isles, I don’t know who this person beside me is.”

 

Maura swallowed harshly. “I know… I know I’ve been…”

 

“No.” Jane cut her off. “Maura, I don’t think you understand exactly how much I’m hurting right now. Look, I know you’re an independent woman and you can do whatever you like, but whatever has happened here is so… so out of character and so hurtful to me. You’re hurting yourself, too. This… this whole issue is too much.”

 

“Jane, what are you saying?” Maura sat up, looking over at her best friend.

 

Rising from the bed and turning her back to Maura, Jane ran a hand over her tense shoulders. “I’m going back to DC. I don’t know what is going on with you, but staying here and trying to… get past this will kill us. Will kill me.”

 

Maura closed her eyes as she felt the sting of tears begin to burn.

 

“Jane”. Her voice cracked.

 

Jane rose from the bed, walking over to the door and opening it.

 

“Maybe we need some time apart. To think.” Her voice wavered noticeably as she spoke.

 

Maura nodded, pulling her arms around herself protectively.

 

“Okay” she whispered, with her head down, as she walked out of Jane’s room alone.


	21. A Bad Seed Grows

Maura pulled her coat tightly around her as she walked through the empty streets of Oxford. The silence around her only served to increase the intensity of the thoughts rushing around in her mind.

 

Jane was upset, that much was obvious. Maura, although she found it difficult to figuratively put herself in another person’s shoes, could understand that her actions- the things Jane had seen- had shocked her friend.

 

Maura knew that her behaviour was uncharacteristic. Although she was no stranger to a one-night encounter with a nobody from a bar, Harriet wasn’t nobody. Harriet was a friend, albeit from the past, who had reached out for her help. From Jane’s perspective, Maura wondered whether it seemed that she had taken advantage of her friend’s weakened emotional state for her own carnal needs, or whether her resentment was more towards Harriet for doing the same thing to her.

 

She hadn’t been thinking. Not rationally. The gin had helped, but Maura had gone to bed with Harriet for reasons she still didn’t understand. After Paris, after Jane, she had felt flat. Delicate. Like paper. Knowing that her best friend would be 343 nautical miles away when she returned, that her life would be different – emptier- seemed to melt her resilience and drive away from her flesh as easily as chocolate in front of a flame.

 

Guilt burned inside her, churning in her stomach. Never before had she regretted a decision as much as this.

 

Taking a moment to stop and breathe, Maura tried to rationalise her thoughts.

 

There was a shame in that moment she was unfamiliar with. A shame that had followed her, shrouded her, every day since Jane burst into that bedroom and caught Maura’s eye.

 

A shame that came from the fact that she had hurt the one person in the world she cared about more than anybody else.

 

Jane.

 

Walking slowly up the concrete steps of Harriet’s terrace, Maura took a deep breath. Preparing herself, she pushed open the door and was greeted with cold silence.

 

“Harriet?” Maura called into the dark hallway. “Are you home?”

 

Hearing no reply, Maura set her coat and bag down in the corner and walked into the kitchen.

 

Sitting at the table, Maura picked anxiously at her fingernails as she watched the front door, waiting for her friend’s return. They had a lot to discuss for the sake of their own friendship, and for Jane.

 

//

 

As soon as the hotel room door closed, Jane sank to her knees behind it and held her head in her hands.

 

So much had happened in such a short time. Paris seemed like a distant memory, and the Maura she had left there was much lighter, less burdened, than the woman who had just walked out of her room.

 

They were both hurting. That much was obvious. Jane, for all of her faults, was fiercely loyal and protective. Maura, with her zest for life and love of adventure, was a shell of her former self. A shell who was in love with her.

 

Jane ran a hand through her tangled hair as the thought hit her.

 

Maura was in love with her.

 

She had said it out loud.

 

Under any other circumstances, Jane would have reacted very differently. In her head, when she had played out the fantasy that her best friend returned her feelings, she envisioned herself pulling Maura into her arms, and kissing her soft lips gently, meaningfully, before uttering the same three words back to the blonde-haired doctor.

 

It had been difficult to quash the urge to react the way she had always fantasised, but the residual anger, distrust and pain she had felt seeing Maura with another woman crashed over her mind like a tidal wave. She was, although she hated to admit it, jealous.

 

Jealous of a woman she had met twice. A woman who, in her mind, was playing a very complicated game with her best friend’s feelings. A woman who had dragged them both half way across the world and got them caught up in this mess in the first place.

 

“God!” Jane cursed, pulling herself to her feet and throwing herself down on the bed. She had no energy left to pack, to book a flight, or to run away again.

 

The pillow across from her found its way under her chin as Jane breathed in the subtle scent of Maura she had left on it. Pulling a honey blonde hair from the white cotton, Jane sighed, succumbing to the urge to snuggle into it and close her eyes.

 

//

 

The room was dark.

 

The two, writhing bodies were covered only by a thin, white sheet, lightened only by the moon seeping from the crack between heavy curtains.

 

“Oh!”

 

Her head tipped back, eyes rolling as her hair brushed against the pillow.

 

“Oh!”

 

Her hands grasped forcefully at the sheet, pulling it out from under the mattress.

 

“Oh Jane!”

 

Green eyes found hers. Stared.  Stopped.

 

Reaching for the door, Jane couldn’t turn away. She couldn’t stop watching as the dark-haired woman continued to lap at Maura’s centre. Taunting her.

 

Slowly, she lifted her head and wiped her mouth.

 

Flicking her hair from side to side, the woman reached up and grabbed the side of her own face. Pulling, she ripped off the flesh to reveal an entirely new face.

 

_Alice._

 

Jane’s breath caught in her throat.

 

_Alice Sands._

 

“Did you miss me?”

 

//

 

Turning on the lights, Jane sat bolt upright in her hotel bed. A cold sweat seeped from every pore as she grappled for her phone with her shaking hands.

 

Alice Sands was gone.

 

She was a ghost now.

 

That’s all.

 

But she had to be sure.

 

Dialling a familiar number, she rested against the headboard and tried to slow her frantic pulse.

 

“Jane?”

 

Maura’s voice brought her back to reality. Every fear seemed to dampen instantly.

 

“Jane are you okay? I’ve been calling you but you didn’t answer.”

 

“No... No I'm fine. I’m sorry. I fell asleep. Is everything okay?”

 

Jane listened as Maura took a shaky breath.

 

“Harriet is missing.”


	22. Trust in Me

****

“Tell me what we’ve got” Detective Greenly instructed as he walked purposefully up the short path to Harriet’s front door, where a nervous Jane was stood waiting.

 

“Harriet Morgan, sir. She’s not come home. I know it’s been less than 24 hours, but since she ID’d the body in your murder case, I thought it would be a good idea to let you know…” Jane hesitated, looking at Maura’s nervously fidgeting hands, “just in case.”

 

“And what do I call you?” Detective Greenly reached out a hand as he looked Jane up and down.

 

“Detective Jane Rizzoli. FBI. Formerly Boston Homicide.”

 

“John Greenly. Oxfordshire Police.”

 

After a round of pleasantries, Jane followed the detective into Harriet’s empty house.

 

Sitting on the couch with a mug of hot tea, a still shaking Maura explained Harriet’s dinner plans for the evening.

 

“And this… professor. Which college does he work at?”

 

“Victoria, sir.”

 

“And do you happen to know if he lives there?” Maura shook her head.

 

“I have no idea.”

 

“Paul!” Detective Greenly summoned over a silver-haired officer. “Call central for me, would you? Ask them for the home address of Elias Kaplowitz. Professor at Victoria College.” The uniformed officer nodded, plucking his phone from his belt as he walked towards the kitchen.

 

“Ladies, I’ve spoken to Agent O’Neill on the way over. He’s happy for you to assist in the search- in fact, he insisted. But no guns. And you stay safe.” Detective Greenly looked sternly at Jane. Gulping, she wondered what the FBI had told him about her.

 

Nodding, she agreed. “Understood.”

 

“246 Sycamore Avenue” Paul’s voice carried into the living room.

 

Picking his keys up from the coffee table, detective Greenly drained his tea.

 

“Let’s go.”

 

//

 

The tall regency terraced house was dark when the two patrol cars parked outside.

 

When there was no answer at the door, officers used a battering ram to break through it. Following the thudding footsteps of the police, Jane and Maura walked cautiously into the house, bodies brushing accidentally against one another as they navigated the narrow hallway.

 

“Negative” came a voice from the front of the line.

 

“Upstairs” Detective Greenly instructed. Turning to Jane and Maura, he spoke quietly. “Can you think of anywhere else they might have gone?”

 

Clearing her throat, Maura spoke. “Last time, we met at his office. If… if she had questions about the murders, about the codes, he might have taken her there.”

 

“Sir!”

 

Following the sound of the officer’s voice, the three of them quickly ascended to the first floor.

 

“In here.”

 

Kaplowitz’s home office looked as if it had been completely ransacked. Boxes and papers flooded the floor, cupboards had been opened and emptied.

 

“Get the forensics unit in here. We need to collect as much evidence as we can.”

 

Scanning the room, Jane spotted a clean rectangular space on the floor. Carefully walking over, she pointed to it.

 

“There was something here. A… A box. Or… or a suitcase?”

 

Crouching next to her, Maura nodded. “An object, something dense and cuboidal, sat here for a long time. I hate to guess, but I would agree with Jane. There are four small indentations in the pattern- it could definitely have been a suitcase…”

 

Jane smiled as she heard Maura complete her sentence under her breath.

 

“… amongst a plethora of other similar objects.”

 

Detective Greenly nodded. “If he took the suitcase, do you think he did this himself?”

 

Jane shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s tried to cover their tracks by making it look like a crime scene.”

 

“So where would he have gone?”

 

Maura shook her head. “I’m not sure. The only other place I know of is his office at the college.”

 

Detective Greenly turned on his heel and began to walk down the stairs. Lifting his radio to his mouth, he requested another unit meet him at Victoria College.

 

“Your expert opinions are very welcome to join me?” He offered, gesturing to his car as he unlocked it.

 

Jane and Maura quickly clambered in, buckling their seatbelts as the detective turned on the engine and the siren.

 

“Jane?” Maura’s eyes were wide, full of fear and unanswered questions, as she looked across at her friend. Reaching out, Jane took her hand in her own and held it tightly.

 

“I’m here. I’m here.”

 

//

 

An older sergeant greeted the three of them as the car pulled up outside Victoria College.

 

“There’s nothing in the visitor log, and the CCTV doesn’t work.”

 

Jane shook her head. “It never does.”

 

“We waited for you before we entered. It’s your call, boss.”

 

Detective Greenly walked confidently up to the door of the college, and into the building.

 

“Office is at the end of the corridor. I want every inch of this place searched. Smith, Peters, you take the left wing. Harrison and Lee, take the right. Listen out for one another, use your radios if you find anything. Two officers on the door at all times. Nobody enters and nobody leaves. Ladies, with me.”

 

Jane and Maura followed Detective Greenly and two more police officers through the corridor and towards Kaplowitz’s office. Nodding to the officers, Detective Greenly stood back as they broke through the locked door.

 

“Sir”.

 

Maura, noticing the urgency in the officer’s voice, pushed past the Detective and into the room. “Please” she said, more with her eyes than her voice, “this is what I do.”

 

Harriet was laid in the middle off the office floor. A pool of vomit sat beside her pale, swollen cheek.

 

Walking cautiously over, Maura pressed two fingers against her friend’s neck and checked for a pulse.

 

Looking up, her eyes met Jane’s. “Call an ambulance. She’s still alive.”

 

Turning her onto her side, Maura examined Harriet’s flaccid limbs and mentally catalogued what she found.

 

No external evidence of a struggle. No bruising, aside from her temple and around her mouth.

 

“Detectives” Maura addressed both Greenly and Jane, not caring that Jane’s title wasn’t quite correct any more. “I can’t be certain until I see a tox report, but Harriet appears to have been poisoned. There’s evidence from her mouth that she has had at least one violent seizure.”

 

“Rachel Maloney was poisoned.”

 

“Exactly.”

 

Detective Greenly nodded. “So we need to find this Kaplowitz guy. Now.”

  
Walking away from the room, Jane and Maura could hear him ordering a wider search for the professor.

 

“He won’t get far” Jane reassured Maura, who was crouching over her friend, doing all that she could to help her.

 

“She’s stable” Maura was clearly more comfortable focussing on her role. “She… she vomited, which is a good thing. It means she’s got some of the toxin out of her system.”

 

“But why leave her?” Jane questioned.

 

“If she passed out after her seizure, he might have thought she was dead.”

 

Pulling on a pair of gloves, Jane began to walk around the room opening drawers and cupboards whilst they waited for the ambulance to arrive. There were hundreds of books, and more of the same papers they had found in his house. In the corner of the room, an antique bureau sat. Locked.

 

“Can you still pick locks?” Jane looked across at Maura.

 

Nodding, she scanned the floor, picking up a rogue paperclip and unravelling it.

 

The bureau lock clicked, and Jane carefully lifted the polished wooden lid.

 

Inside, sat on the desk, was a long metallic machine, with two rows of embossed keys and a rotor system.

 

“That’s it.” Maura pointed. “That’s Mercurius.”


	23. The Little Black Box

“So you mean to tell me that this huge, international crime syndicate went underground because someone found an old typewriter?”

 

Jane ran her hand through her dark hair as she paced the room. Harriet had been taken to the hospital, and samples taken to the lab by the forensics team to try and find out what she had been poisoned with.

 

“Possibly. I don’t know yet.”

 

Maura turned and looked around the room, realising that herself and Jane were finally alone for the first time.

 

“Jane… I know we said we were going to have some space. But I can’t do this without you. You… you’re so important to me. I… Please don’t leave me.”

 

Walking over, Jane took Maura’s hand and rubbed it gently. “I won’t. I’m here. We’ll find him, Maura. Together. Like we always do.”

 

Nodding, Maura leaned into Jane’s shoulder and closed her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she felt her muscles begin to relax. “I can’t do this without you” she whispered, feeling Jane’s strong hand rub gently up and down her back.

 

“Ladies” Detective Greenly’s voice forced them apart. “There’s something you need to see.”

 

//

 

The cellars under Victoria College were damp and cold. Aside from one narrow, stone stairway there was no other way to enter or leave the space.

 

“Over here”. Detective Greenly flashed his torch around the dark room, until the light landed on a black box with a red, blinking light.

 

“What is it?” Jane asked, walking over to it.

 

Looking closely, Maura nodded to herself. “I think I know. I think someone knew what Kaplowitz was up to. This is a device set up to record signals between teleprinters. If it works, and if the signal can reach through to the next floor, this box should give us evidence of all communications between the Mercurius machine upstairs and the other one, wherever it may be.”

 

“So we’ve got him?” Jane asked.

 

“Well, we’d have to prove Kaplowitz was using the machine upstairs and we’ve got to find the other. We have no concrete link between Kaplowitz and any criminal activity, nor do we have any proof that he killed Rachel, Martin or Harriet.” Detective Greenly answered.

 

“Let’s get to work, then” Jane suggested, smiling genuinely across at Maura, who was still nervously wringing her hands.

 

//

 

The bright lights of the Oxford Police crime lab were a stark contrast to the dank chambers of Victoria College. Jane’s eyes took a moment to adjust as she walked through the doors to watch her friend at work.

 

“This feels familiar” Maura commented as Jane entered the room. “Just like old times.”

 

Jane smiled, pulling on a pair of gloves and walking towards the machine in the middle of the table.

 

“Greenly’s guys are searching for a link between Kaplowitz and any of the crimes. They’re waiting on tox still, but as soon as they get the report he’s promised that he’ll bring it to you.”

 

Maura didn’t answer. She was too engrossed in the task at hand; carefully examining the recording device they had found.

 

“It operates on radio signals, like all of the Bletchley machinery did, but this is much smaller. Much newer.” Turning the box over, Maura nodded at what she found.

 

“Very clever.”

 

“What is?” Jane asked, feeling herself getting impatient.

 

“Well, technology has moved on quite a lot since the 40’s. The Bletchley machines were manned 24 hours a day, with every communication logged by hand in German, then transferred out to be translated before it was passed up the chain of command. Whoever left this… device couldn’t have been there all day without being noticed. So they used an SD card.”

 

Jane watched as Maura pulled out a black card from the side of the machine. “Brilliant.”

 

Walking over to one of the computers, Maura passed the card to a technician and watched as he opened the files.

 

“Can you print that for me?” She asked, leaving the rest of the job in the capable hands of the crime lab.

 

//

 

“It’s Morse code” Detective Greenly exclaimed as Maura presented him with the communications they had found. “Of course.”

 

“Can you read it?” Jane asked. The detective took a moment to look and shook his head. “I can slowly. But this is beyond me.”

 

Both of them turned to face Maura. “Well, Dr Smartypants. I bet you can.”

 

Maura nodded meekly, looking up at Jane before taking the paper back from the detective. “I… I can. And I have to say that, with no offense meant, Detective Greenly wouldn’t have been able to translate it anyway.”

 

Both Jane and Detective Greenly stared in confusion at Maura.

 

“The messages are in Serbian.”

 

Sitting at a chair, with a pen and paper in hand, she began to translate. First from Morse Code into Serbian, and then from Serbian into English.

 

“Deposit goods tonight. 6 Pontius Avenue.”

 

Looking up, Maura watched as Detective Greenly put the pieces together in his mind. “That’s Martin Richards’ address. What else?”

 

“2340. Schipol. Delivery received.”

 

“In The Netherlands? Okay.”

 

“1800. Naples. Ferrichi. Terminated.”

 

Detective Greenly shook his head. “Armando Ferrichi. Italian Ambassador for Serbia. He was shot in the head.”

 

“Maloney. Terminated. Milton.”

 

“Shit.”

 

“Morgan. Terminated.”

 

“Well. There we have it.” Detective Greenly picked up the papers Maura had translated. “I’m going to scan these in and send a copy to the task force. You’ve done an incredible job. Thank you.”

 

Maura nodded as the man took the papers and left the room.

 

“So do you think Rachel left the box down there?” Jane asked. Maura shrugged.

 

“I’ve ordered prints. We should know soon.”

 

“I think we need to go back over everything. There’s a connection somewhere between Kaplowitz and everything else. It might make him easier to find.”

 

Maura nodded. “We? Together?”

 

Jane nodded, her hand resting on the small of Maura’s back, guiding her out of the crime lab.

 

“Together.”


	24. Touching Base

****

“The real question is who has the other machine” Jane noted as she sat cross legged on the floor, surrounded by case notes.

 

“Well, we know that person… or people… at least speak Serbian.”

 

“Does Martin Richards have a Serbian connection?”

 

Maura shook her head. “I don’t think so. Write it down, though. We can check.”

 

Jane scribbled her question on the bottom of an extensive list, a focus for their investigation. “Who would know?”

 

Maura walked across heavily patterned carpet, checking the map they had created on the wall of Jane’s hotel room. “I’m not sure. His phone records show communication from four numbers in the last three months. They were all in his contacts- his granddaughter, Rachel, Joan Gilmore from Bletchley and a Professor Marko Rusieuc.”

 

Turning to face her friend, Maura’s wide eyes met Jane’s. “That’s definitely a Balkan way of spelling that name… the K. Very specific.”

 

“So he could be Serbian? Or speak Serbian?”

 

Maura shrugged. “We need to find out.”

 

Checking her watch, Jane sighed audibly. “It’s so late. We… we can’t call the technician now- nobody will be there. I’ll ask in the morning.”

 

Maura nodded, rubbing Jane’s back. “You know, there is one person you should probably call.” Jane turned, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Do you have any idea how many text messages I’ve had from your mother? She’s worried sick!”

 

Jane slumped. “I know, I know. But what do I say to her? ‘Hi mom. I’m back playing games with death. Yes, there’s definitely been more murder. No, I’m definitely not safe.’ I’d have to explain all of this” Jane gestured between herself and the doctor “and I’d have to tell her that I left Agent Davies with no real explanation of why, and that I chased you half way across the world and walked out of a really good job to do it.”

 

Maura sighed, clambering over to the bed and pulling out another stack of papers. “Jane, call her. She deserves to know you’re safe.”

 

Pulling a face at her friend, Jane dialled the guesthouse’s phone number. “I’m so glad I forgot to remove my international calling plan. I’d be bankrupt by now.”

 

Maura rolled her eyes and focussed on her breathing, ignoring the rambling detective and preparing for the long, argumentative conversation that was about to ensue between a wayward woman and her Italian mother.

 

It was going to be a long night.

 

//

 

“Jane Clementine Rizzoli! I’ve been waiting for DAYS to hear your voice! Do you have any idea what that kind of heartache can do to a mother? Do you?!”

 

“Mom. Mom calm down.”

 

“Calm down?! Calm down?! Jane- you haven’t returned my calls, Maura’s been very vague which obviously means she’s trying not to lie, Nina and Frankie change the subject every time I bring it up and the FBI keep trying to tell me that the information I need is classified. Classified! Nothing is classified to a mother!”

 

“Mom, I’m fine.”

 

“Janie, where are you?”

 

“I’m in England. With Maura.”

 

“England? Sweet lord. Why? The FBI can’t send my baby away like that!”

 

“They didn’t. I... I’m here for Maura, mom. Something happened. A... a friend of Maura’s is sick and she didn’t want to be alone.” Jane grimaced at the bare-faced lie she had just told.

 

“We’re both okay. Look, I flew out at short notice. I haven’t had a lot of cell reception.”

 

“Janie, you and I both know that’s not good enough. But are you okay? Are you eating enough?” Jane smiled.

 

“I’m fine. I miss you, though.”

 

“When are you coming home, baby?” Closing her eyes, Jane took a deep breath.

 

“Look, as soon as all of this is over, I’ll be on the next plane back to Boston. With Maura. I’ll come straight to the house and I’ll come see you, okay?”

 

“Okay. But don’t scare me like that again. Anything could have happened.”

 

“Don’t worry about me, mom. I’m fine.”

 

Angela chuckled. “You always say that. And, somehow, you always are. But I still don’t believe you.”

 

//

 

By the time Jane had appeased her mother, the room around her was dark. Looking over to the bed, Jane watched Maura’s chest lift and fall as she slept.

 

Gathering the scattered papers from the bed and the carpet and piling them up on a nearby chair, Jane smoothed the doctor’s waves and tucked her hair behind her ear. After closing the curtains and pulling on some sleepwear, Jane tiptoed around the bed and lifted up the embroidered quilt. It was thin, but it would do.

 

“Jane”.

 

Pausing her steps, Jane turned to her friend.

 

“Stay with me.”

 

Dropping the quilt on the couch, Jane walked back over to the bed.   
  
“Are you sure?”

 

Maura nodded, her eyes still closed.

 

“Stay with me.” Reaching out, she patted the space next to her. “Right here.”

 

Letting out a deep sigh, Jane pulled back the covers and climbed into the bed.

 

“Night Maur” she mumbled, her eyes already closed.

 

“G’ night, Jane”.

 

//

 

So many thoughts plagued her mind.

 

Every question, unanswerable, seemed to grow as the night dragged on.

 

“Jane”

 

Opening one eye, Jane turned to face Maura.

 

“Jane.”

 

“What’s up?”

 

“You’re twitching.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

Jane turned back, looking up at the ceiling, and tried to sleep.

 

A gentle hand brushed against her arm, moving across until it reached the warm, bare skin of her toned stomach.

 

“Time to sleep.” Maura murmured.

 

Jane closed her eyes, concentrating on the warmth of the skin-to-skin contact.

 

A rustling of covers was followed by more warmth as Maura curled into her side.

 

“Together. Like you said.”

 

Jane smiled. Maura’s words echoed in her mind.

 

Soft lips pressed fleetingly against her cheek.

 

“Goodnight, Jane.”

 

Feeling herself begin to float, succumbing to rest, Jane held Maura close against her body.

 

“Goodnight.”


	25. Marko Polo

The following morning, Jane began to find the answers to their extensive list of questions. There weren’t many leads to follow in terms of finding out the identity of this mystery professor who had been in contact with Martin Richards before he died. Their only hope was to take his name back to the Bletchley Historical Preservation Society and ask questions.

****

“Well, he sounded like a very nice man. He asked about our roles and what we did as a group, but then his questions got quite… specific. Asking about machinery and blueprints. When he started asking those sorts of questions, I gave him Martin’s number. He knew more about the machines, I said, more about Mercurius.”

 

“So he mentioned Mercurius to you?” Jane paced the hotel room, phone pressed to her ear.

 

“Yes. And I knew Martin had been researching it, too. So I told him to call Martin.”

 

“Was there anything specific he wanted to know?”

 

“Well, his accent was quite thick, but from what I could gather it sounded as if he was unsure as to whether the British had ever carried out the operation. You know, built the machine. Richard was in the same boat, searching for evidence and the like.”

 

“Did you ever see him face to face?”

 

“No. Never. He was invited to join the meetings, but he never did.”

 

“Okay. Well, thank you Joan. You really have been helpful.”

 

“My pleasure, dear.”

 

Jane hung up the call and put her phone down on the table. Propped up on the bed, Maura looked across at her.

 

“Helpful?”

 

“Well, she was the only other person this Professor Ruch-and-such seems to have spoken to.”

 

“Ru-see-utsh. Jane, it’s not hard.” Maura pronounced the professor’s name with a rolled ‘r’ and a perfect, clipped tone. “We need to find out who he is. I mean, if he’s the Serbian connection in all of this, he could have Kaplowitz. He could have poisoned Harriet. And Rachel.”

 

Jane nodded. “I know. We need to find him.”

 

//

 

The inside of the Oxfordshire Police Department’s technology department was dramatically different to the BRIC unit Jane and Maura were used to. The technicians all sat at separate desks, each as sterile as the last. The clinically white walls were bare, with none of the high-tech, cinema-style technology the pair had come to know.

 

In the corner of the room, Detective Greenly stood, watching a CCTV tape on one of the many computer screens. “Bollocks.”

 

“Gesundheit” Jane exclaimed, smiling at the older man.

 

Maura smiled. “I believe the American translation is ‘balls’.”

 

Jane rolled her eyes.

 

“Thank you, Dr Isles.”

 

“Always happy to help.”

 

Maura took a step back, her hands clasped in front of her, as Jane’s attention moved to the images on the computer.

 

“When did these guys get their CCTV installed? Even my dead grandma’s security system worked better than this!”

 

Maura smiled as she watched her friend joke with the British detectives. ‘Cop talk’ was a language all of its own, and Maura noted the fact that it seemed to be pretty universal. Aside from some dialect differences, Jane could have been having the same conversation with Korsak or Frankie.

 

“So no facial recognition?”

 

“No, sorry. It’s just awful quality. Plus, this guy keeps his head turned away from the camera.”

 

Jane watched again as the tall, dark-haired man dropped his head and walked through the hotel lobby. There were no other cameras, and no witnesses to capture the events that followed.

 

“Have you guys got any idea how he got there? The hotel looks pretty remote.”

 

“We’re pretty sure he came by car. I’ll take a look at the nearest cameras from each direction.” The young technician spoke without taking his eyes off the screen.

 

“Brilliant. Thank you. Oh, and if you have time, it might be worth searching for the professor more widely. Any information on this guy would be a huge help.”

 

//

 

“So there’s no CCTV evidence, nothing pointing towards who this guy is, or whether it even _is_ him. And even if it is, we’ve got nothing to link him and Kaplowitz. Nothing to link him to you. No reason to pursue him. The police are doing everything they can, of course, and there’s still a lot of unanswered questions to pursue. And I’m trying to be objective, I’m trying so hard to be a scientist but you’re my friend and you’re hurt. I can’t sit back and leave other people to do their jobs when it’s my friend’s life- livelihood- at stake. It just… I can’t do it. It…”

 

“Can she even hear you?”

 

Jane walked into the hospital room, startling Maura slightly. They had left the police to their work, and visited Harriet on their way back to the hotel. Maura had managed to secure a promise of regular updates from one of the consultants on Harriet’s care team, but needed to see her friend to make sure that she was in safe hands.

 

“I got you coffee. It’s probably awful, but it’s hot.”

 

Maura smiled and took a sip. “I… I’m just airing my thoughts out loud. She can hear me on some level, but the cognitive processing required for understanding patterns of speech is likely to be compromised right now.”

 

“And what are you thinking?”

 

“That it’s true what you said. I always attract trouble.”

 

Jane shook her head. “I was angry. And stupid. You know not to listen to me when I’m being childish.”

 

“It’s just that… things are so messy. Life is so messy. I can’t help but envy people who work a 9-5, predictable job. People who can go to work every day without the lingering fear that they, or someone they are close to, might not make it. It’s a horrible way to live.”

 

“But any other life would be boring. I should know- I tried it. I’m here because I can’t fight the urge to investigate. To ask questions. Just like you.”

 

“I thought you were here because you couldn’t trust me?” Maura said quietly, watching for Jane’s reaction.

 

Jane shook her head, as if ridding herself of invasive thoughts, before answering quietly in her gravelly tone.

 

“No. I came here because I love you. Because if anything were to happen to you and I’d stayed away, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

 

Maura sighed deeply, reaching across to hold Jane’s hand tightly. Looking up, her eyes met the detective’s and she felt a smile creep across her face.

 

“You love me?”

 

Jane nodded, her gaze intent. “I do.”

 

The beeping and rushing of Harriet’s machines seemed to fade into silence. Leaning closer, Jane reached out and ran her thumb protectively across Maura’s cheek. The blonde closed her eyes at the contact, her dark eyelashes casting a shadow on her freckled skin.

 

Jane’s phone rang violently in her pocket.

 

“Shit”.

 

Looking down, she read quickly, before once again meeting Maura’s gaze.

 

“It’s Greenly. We need to head back.”


	26. Word Games

“We’ve found something weird.”

 

Jane and Maura both sat up, looking intently as the technician spoke.

 

“I went through Harriet’s laptop. Detective Greenly wondered if, since she was the most recent person to start asking questions about Mercurius, she had had any contact with this professor.”

 

“And?” Jane rubbed her hand over her scar.

 

“And she did. There is an email, only one, from Harriet to Professor Rusieuc. She says she received the email address from a friend.”

 

All eyes in the room turned to Maura, who shook her head. “Not me.”

 

“No. But possibly Rachel,” Detective Greenly concluded. “We will confirm.”

 

“Anyway, I used the email address to back-trace his IP address.”

 

Everybody sat, waiting for the technician to explain.

 

“It’s not entirely conclusive, but the IP address is from Victoria College.”

 

“Kaplowitz’s office?”

 

The technician and Greenly nodded. “Exactly.”

 

Jane ran a hand through her dark hair. “So what now? Do we investigate every member of staff? Find out where this professor guy was working?”

 

Greenly shook his head. “I already called. There is nobody by that name registered with the university. There never has been.”

 

Maura opened her mouth to speak, but Greenly held up his hand. “And, before you say it, I’ve checked with Oxford Brookes University at the top of the hill. They don’t have any records either. In fact, nobody outside of the Bletchley society and those of us involved in this investigation seem to have any knowledge of this guy at all.”

 

“So the professor’s a cover? A fake?” Greenly nodded at Jane’s suggestion.

 

“That’s the theory.”

 

The technician opened his laptop, and began to type in the professor’s name. “I’ll show you what happens when we search.”

 

The technician typed a number of variations of the professor’s name into the syntax window and pressed ‘enter’. As thousands of databases and resources were scoured, only a handful of results appeared.

 

“Oxfordshire police.” Jane shook her head. “The only results are from what we’ve written about him ourselves. Shit.”

 

The technician closed his computer, and began to pack away his notes. “Sorry, guys. But whoever this Professor Marko Radoslav Rusieuc is, the answer isn’t online.”

 

“Wait!”

 

Jane jumped in shock as Maura’s hand wrapped around her wrist.

 

“M. R. Rusieuc. That’s it!”

 

Leaping to her feet, Maura grabbed the technician’s papers and pulled a pen out of Detective Greenly’s pocket. Feeling the confused stares of everyone on her, Maura smoothed out the back of the paper and began to write.

 

M R R U S I E U C

M E R C U R I U S

 

“Oh my God.” Jane’s hand rested against her temple. “It’s all just part of the game.”

 

“He’s playing us. This… this wordplay. It’s Kaplowitz. He told us this is what he had taught Rachel to do. Pen and paper codes, word games. It’s him, Jane. He’s got to have something to do with this.”

 

“Could it be one of his students? If he taught Rachel, he could have taught anyone else how to do this. We need to speak to him. We need to find him.” Jane couldn’t help but let her agitation be known. They had spent a whole day focusing their search on someone who didn’t even exist. Time was running out, and with Harriet still in hospital, they would have to find the answers themselves.

 

Detective Greenly placed a protective hand on Jane’s shoulder. “We’ll find him. I’ve been told what you two can do together. I’ve got every confidence that this Kaplowitz guy won’t get far.”

 

“Well” Jane smiled at the older detective. “We’d better get started, then.”

 

//

 

“Do we have all of Rachel’s notes?” Jane asked from across the large conference room the police department had offered to the detective and the doctor.

 

Maura shrugged. “I think so. I mean, the police have given us everything they had, and Harriet had taken everything else.”

 

“Okay. I just can’t work out how Kaplowitz is connected to all of this. Not really. I mean, the guy’s a history professor. A nerd. How has he managed to get himself caught up so deep in the middle of an international ring of hitmen and criminals that he has a fake identity and has murdered two people?” Jane thought for a moment, smiling deviously to herself. “Although let’s not forget that he’s not the _first_ nerd to get caught up in murder, is he, Dr Isles? Or in organised crime?”

 

Maura found the closest piece of unused paper, screwed it into a ball and threw it at the detective. “If you _dare_ bring any of that up in front of these people, I will call your mother and tell her why you’re really here.”

 

Jane pouted comically. “Fine. Thanks for ruining my fun.”

 

Maura smiled. “Well, it’s not fun for me. Pick on someone your own size. Or, better still, pick _up_ the papers in front of you and help me solve this murder.”

 

“Yes, mistress.”

 

“Less of the mistress. I don’t care what you’re into in the bedroom, but it has no place at work.”

 

Jane raised an eyebrow at Maura, who was now blushing slightly, but chose to stay silent on the matter. It was far too soon, not to mention inappropriate timing, to be talking about being intimate with one another. Even if she had already declared her love for the blonde doctor, everything else would have to wait until they were definitely safe and Kaplowitz- or whoever was truly behind the operation- were locked away.

 

“Anyway… back to the case.”

 

“Back to the case” Maura repeated. “Maybe we should go back to the start. Back to Rachel.”

 

Jane nodded, leaning back into her seat. “Rachel Maloney was researching at Bletchley. She had contact with Martin Richards, with the Bletchley Historical Preservation Society, with Kaplowitz and, possibly, with the fake Professor Rusieuc. She’s also our connection to Harriet.”

 

Maura nodded, listening intently to Jane’s explanation. “We know that Rachel had visited Bletchley, and that she had been in the archives. She had uncovered the letter from Henry Pickering to Iris explaining the Mercurius machine.”

 

“Yes, which has only been read by myself, Rachel, Martin Richards and Iris as far as we know.”

 

“Rachel had some communication with Martin Richards through the society. When she went to speak to him, she found Martin Richards’ body and realised that Mercurius had been stolen. And, somehow, during that time, she became involved enough in the aftermath of Martin Richards’ murder and the evidence that was planted there, that she joined O’Neill’s task force as a CI. For information, but also for her own protection.”

 

“And then, at some point following Martin Richards’ murder, Rachel spoke to somebody outside the investigation about Mercurius. And that person either killed her, or ordered her murder.”

 

Jane nodded. “And our best guess at the moment is that Kaplowitz knows who the killer is.”

 

“So where do you propose we start?” Maura asked, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of information scattered on the table.

 

“We need to find him.”


	27. A House is Not a Home

Ducking under crime scene tape, Jane and Maura walked back into Professor Kaplowitz’s office. Most of his belongings had been boxed and moved, and the room seemed rather hollow without the towering piles of books he had arranged on the shelves pressed against each wall.

 

“I’m so glad I didn’t become an academic. My father’s office looked just like this. I couldn’t cope.”

 

Jane smiled affectionately as Maura scrunched her nose at the state of the room they were in. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is it too Elise De Wolfe for your liking?”

 

Maura looked at Jane with confusion. “How do you even know who that is?”

 

“Maur, we have watched a _lot_ of documentaries together. I listen… sometimes.”

 

“Well. If you _had_ been paying attention, you would know that De Wolfe’s signature style was anti-Victorian. Much lighter and less stuffy than… this” Maura gestured to the room. “De Wolfe would never have purchased a crimson paisley carpet. I understand the need to be in-keeping with the aesthetic and era of the exterior, but I would never be able to peer-review in an office like this. It would be so distracting!”

 

“Speaking of distracting…” Jane turned on her heel as she spoke, “we have a job to do.”

 

Pulling protective blue gloves onto their hands, Jane and Maura stood for a moment in the centre of the room.

 

“What are we looking for?” Maura asked after a moment’s silence.

 

“Anything that could connect Kaplowitz to the fake professor. Greenly is interviewing everyone else who works here, and the team are going through each office one by one. Everyone’s computer is being searched, too.”

 

“Do you think one of the other professors could be involved?”

 

Jane shrugged her shoulders. “I’m not sure. I mean, I’m trusting the police to add anyone with a connection to their list of suspects. All we know for certain is that whoever used the name Rusieuc in their communications is covering for something dodgy.”

 

“Dodgy?” Maura laughed. “You’ve been in England too long.”

 

//

 

Finding nothing of importance in the office, Jane and Maura turned their attention to the many files that Harriet had removed from Rachel’s home. The police had, under the direction of the task force, taken copies of the most important documents. The rest were still piled high in Harriet’s house.

 

The Victorian terrace was filled with a sense of silent anticipation. A vintage clock ticked on the kitchen wall, the only thing making a sound in the stillness. Maura and Jane set up base in the living room, surrounded by boxes of unorganised papers, textbooks and scribbled notes. From the comfort of Harriet’s mismatched, fabric-covered armchairs, the two women began to search for whatever it was they were missing.

 

“It feels weird to be in someone’s house like this when they’re not here”, Jane commented as she scanned yet another boring history thesis, “I feel like I did when I was a kid and I used to sneak down to the kitchen at night when everyone was in bed.”

 

“Did you ever feel like that in my house?” Maura asked, half-reading the paper in her lap. Jane shook her head and turned to look at her friend.

 

“Of course not. Your house is… home. I’m more comfortable there than in my own place.” Jane blushed slightly at her admission, but didn’t stop. “Every important memory we have, the little building blocks of our story, they all happened in your house. I… I think leaving your house behind when I moved was one of the most heart-breaking things I had to do, just because it’s so full of memories. Our memories.”

 

“That’s… lovely” Maura whispered, feeling a swelling of emotion in her chest. “I always hoped that the people I loved the most would feel comfortable in my home.”

 

Reaching across from her own armchair, Jane took Maura’s hand in her own. Nothing was said, but the silence didn’t feel stifling or tense. For a few moments, both women sat, enjoying the simple contact without words.

 

The four chimes of the kitchen clock pulled them both from their thoughts. Turning to face Jane, Maura spoke.

 

“We should get these papers packed away. My mother is in Geneva for an event. I promised I’d call before tonight. I… I should probably explain to her why I’m still in Europe.” Jane nodded in agreement.

 

“You should. She cares so much about you. Have you spoken to Hope at all since you’ve been here?” Maura shrugged her shoulders at the mention of her birth mother.

 

“I called her from France before I left, mainly to inform her that I wouldn’t be returning to the clinic yet. I didn’t think it was appropriate to speak to her in depth about any of this; especially not when I hadn’t told my mom.”

 

Checking the time on her phone, Jane stood up. “O’Neill wants an update on the situation. I should call him. You go ahead and call Constance from the hotel. I’ll clean and lock up here, and I’ll meet you there for dinner.”

 

Maura picked up her bag and coat, placing the papers she had half-read into one of the boxes. “We may need to come back tomorrow; I can’t say I took any of that in.” Jane nodded in agreement.

 

“I know. I might ask Greenly if he could get anyone from his team to do it for us. We only need the highlights. Anyway- go. The last thing you need is the wrath of Constance if you’re late..”

 

//

 

The lights of the hospital burned brightly against the dusky skies of Oxford as Jane walked through the sliding doors of the ICU. O’Neill’s message was followed by another asking for an update on Harriet and, since Maura had already left to call her mother, Jane decided to take the initiative and visit the young historian herself.

 

Harriet was laid, pallid and frail, in a metal-framed hospital bed. Numerous monitors beeped at random as she breathed with the help of a machine. It was the first time Jane had seen the woman this closely. The first time she had really had the opportunity.

 

Up close, even after days in hospital and no makeup, Harriet was beautiful. Her mousy brown hair framed a round face that was usually home to playful, dark eyes. Her olive skin, although paler than usual, was still starkly contrasting against the crisp white sheets of the hospital bed.

 

As she sat, waiting for someone to come and speak to her, Jane couldn’t help but note the ways in which the two of them were different. Harriet was much shorter than Jane, she remembered. When the three of them had been in her kitchen, Harriet had been maybe an inch or two shorter than Maura. She had more of a bohemian look about her, with her pierced nose and quirky style of dress. Her home, although definitely the home of a professor, reflected her hippie style with mismatched fabrics and unusual artwork. She was, in Jane’s head, exactly the sort of person she imagined Maura hanging around with during her college years, when Maura was experimenting with her new-found freedom and the opportunities to fight for justice. BCU wasn’t known for being the most liberal of schools, but Jane could just imagine Maura, Harriet and their friends spending their free time discussing political ideologies, animal rights and feminism. Probably gay rights, too.

 

_Gay._

 

It was a word that had always troubled Jane.

 

From being a young girl, it had been used as an insult. By her peers, her brothers, the rookie cops in the academy.

 

_Dyke._

 

Jane had been singled out, especially in high school, and picked on for her athleticism. Her interests. Her clothes. Her voice. She had learned to live with the comments, to brush them off. One of the best ways, she had learned, was to attach herself to an attractive guy. Once people understood that she, despite her love of hockey and baseball, was _attractive_ to the opposite sex, they left her alone.

 

But now, with Maura, things were changing. The labels, the words, didn’t matter.

 

“You know, I called her selfish.” Jane found herself speaking out loud. “Selfish. She had done nothing wrong. I… I hope you know that.”

 

Harriet responded by breathing, the pump of the machine moving steadily up and down.

 

“I… I was jealous. Maura means so much to me. I just couldn’t bear the thought of losing her. And I know… I know now that I’m the selfish one. Because I want her all to myself. But you have to understand. It’s been so long. I’ve been fighting this for so long…”

 

Feeling herself becoming emotional, Jane swallowed hard and wiped her eyes.

 

“I’ve never felt like this about anyone before. I… I’m not sure if you can hear me, but I want you to know that I’m sorry you got caught up in the middle of all of this. I’m sorry that you got hurt. I’m sorry that I blamed you. I… I just love her so much.”

 

The door to the private room opened slowly.

 

“Detective?” A young nurse walked in, pulling a clear plastic bag behind her. “Dr Harding is on his way up to speak to you. The paramedics had left these things in the wrong place, I found them and thought the police would probably need them first.”

 

The woman held out the plastic bag, which was full of Harriet’s things.

 

“Thank you”.

 

Taking the bag, Jane rifled through it. Aside from the clothes and shoes she had been wearing, the only other object was Harriet’s large, grey leather handbag.

 

Pulling it out, Jane looked up at Harriet once again and spoke. “I’m sorry to have to do this. I… I’d hate it if I was you. But I need to check.”

 

Systematically looking through Harriet’s bag, clutching a protective sheet of plastic from the sink unit in the corner of the room in lieu of gloves, Jane made a note of everything she saw.

 

“Keys, wallet, lipstick, tweezers, nail file… diary.”

 

Harriet’s diary was a large, leather-bound book, filled with notes and various extra sheets of paper.

 

Turning to the date of her meeting, Jane scanned the page. Nothing screamed ‘clue’ apart from the heavy underlining Harriet had used to emphasise the date and time of her meeting with Kaplowitz.

 

“Interesting” Jane commented.

 

Turning back to her bag, Jane flipped through a handful of receipts and postcards, most of which could have fallen out of her over-stuffed diary.

 

Pulling out a collection of papers, Jane took a sharp intake of breath at the words ‘Bletchley Park Archives’ stamped on the back of a postcard-sized item.

 

Flipping it over, she stared intently. Directly into the eyes of someone who looked very much like Elias Kaplowitz.

 

“Bingo.”


	28. Harriet the Spy

Harriet’s office was at the end of a long corridor in one of Oxford’s more modern colleges. The industrial white walls and plain wooden furniture stood in stark contrast to Kaplowitz’s gaudy college office. The room reminded Jane of her own office back in DC.

 

“As far as we know, Harriet had only been to Bletchley once since Rachel was killed” Detective Greenly explained as they stood in the doorway, looking into the relatively bare room. “If someone else is involved, or had been giving her information, they could be in grave danger. We need to find them as soon as possible.”

 

Taking the order, Jane pulled on a pair of blue gloves and offered a second pair to Maura.

 

“I’ll be interviewing the people in the department” Greenly said, remaining in the doorway as the two women began their preliminary search. “The team are on standby if you find anything of importance. Call me if you need me.”

 

Reaching into her jacket, Jane pulled out the photograph she had found the night before in Harriet’s bag. “Whoever it is looks so much like the professor” Jane reasoned, hoping Maura was listening as she rummaged through a nearby filing cabinet, “but he’s too young.”

 

“Vladimir Kaplowitz.” Jane’s head flew around in shock as Maura spoke. “Born 1921 in Krakow, Poland.”

 

“How did you…”

 

Maura opened the folder she was holding, labelled “Rachel’s Work”, to reveal a handful of sepia-toned photographs, each one captioned with the subject’s name, date and location.

 

Examining each one carefully, Jane’s mind began to make links.

 

“These are surveillance photos”, Jane explained with a tone of conviction. “From all over Europe.”

 

“Rachel must have taken these from the archives. Or someone gave them to her. And… did she give them to Harriet? Did Harriet take them?”

 

Jane nodded. “But why didn’t she say anything? We’ve been spending every waking hour trying to work out what happened and- what- Harriet had the answers the whole time? Was she hiding it from us deliberately?”

 

Maura shook her head, placing a calming hand on Jane’s shoulder. “If she had these when we were all together, she would have said. I…. I don’t like to theorise, but I wonder if these images- this information- is why she ended up hurt.”

 

Jane looked up at Maura, her eyes wide. “Harriet was meeting Kaplowitz for dinner the night she was poisoned. Do you think she took the photograph with her to confront him?”

 

Maura shrugged. “Possibly. But confront him about what? We have nothing to suggest motive.”

 

“Well, there has to be more. Keep looking.”

 

The manila folder Maura had found seemed to be the only connection to Kaplowitz in Harriet’s office. Drawers, folders and filing cabinets produced nothing else that would connect the young historian to Bletchley Park, the professor or any crime. Slumping into Harriet’s uncomfortable desk chair, Jane let out a comically loud sigh.

 

“Is there a problem?” Maura asked, raising an eyebrow at the mass of brown curls now covering the desk as Jane threw her head dramatically into her hands.

 

“I hate this” Jane mumbled from within her cocoon of frustration.

 

“We’ll find something, Jane. We always do. Plus, we’re closer today than we ever were before. Maybe we just need to sit back and think for a moment?”

 

Jane shook her head. “Waste of time” her muffled voice returned.

 

“Then stop moping. Get off your ass and be a detective!” Maura covered her mouth with her hand as soon as her final word had escaped, as if to prevent any more truths from spilling over. Jane sat up quickly, brushing her hair back from her face as she stared at her friend.

 

“Well” she raised her eyebrows, her tone aghast, “if that’s what the doctor suggests”.

 

Rising from her chair, Jane stretched her neck from side to side. It was a yoga tip that Maura had instilled in her early into their friendship, and was one of the many small ways in which the doctor had impacted her life.

 

Maura stayed quiet, resting her back against the wall as she observed Jane. The tall detective seemed to catalogue everything in her mind. In the absence of a working wall to focus her attention, the institutional white of Harriet’s office seemed to allow Jane to map out everything in her mind.

 

“Has Harriet’s computer already been checked?” Jane asked, looking over at Maura.

 

“Her laptop? Yes, they looked at it when she first went missing. Why?”

 

Jane shook her head. “She has another computer. The charger on her desk is for a different laptop.”

 

Maura pulled her phone out of her pocket as she walked into the centre of the room. “I’ll call Greenly. Oxford’s system is quite sophisticated. If we can’t find the computer, we should only need her university login to access her files.”

 

//

 

“And… we’re in.” The police technician pushed the connected laptop over to Maura and Jane before leaving their room.

 

After a long conversation with Detective Greenly, in which Maura had used a handful of complicated scientific terms to explain how the constant moving around was affecting the progress of the case, the two women had found themselves alone, in a small conference room at police headquarters. With a large pane of glass, copies of every piece of evidence and every suspect, and multi-coloured markers, they both felt more at home.

 

“So… we know that Harriet got this information from someone. It could have been Rachel, but most of her stuff is in evidence and there’s nothing in her emails to show she spoke to Harriet about this stuff or shared this much information.”

 

“So do you think Harriet was speaking to someone?” Maura asked. “She did have contact with Rusieuc, which we know is a cover.”

 

Jane opened Harriet’s emails, searching methodically through each one. For all her boisterous energy and impatience, when it came to solving a crime, Jane was safe, systematic and careful. It was one of the elements of her personality Maura admired; she truly cared about the lives of the people she came into contact with and would fight fiercely for justice.

 

“Who is Simon Uxbridge?” Jane finally spoke, after filtering through numerous departmental memos and news from, seemingly, every historical society in the country.

Maura searched through the papers piled high in the centre of the table. Finding a master list of people who had been spoken to by Greenly and his team, she scoured until she found his name.

 

“PhD student. He worked in the same department as Rachel, and had been her research assistant in a previous project.”

 

“What is his specialism?” Jane asked, looking over the computer to meet Maura’s questioning eye.

 

“Nazi arms trading in the second world war.”

 

Opening the email thread, Jane began to read. “Oh, hello. Maur, I think Harriet was onto something big here. Can… can you call Greenly and ask him to get O’Neill on a live chat as soon as possible?”

 

Picking up the phone, Maura dialled his now-familiar number and waited.

 

“Detective, we…” Maura held up her hand, looking directly at Jane as she absorbed everything the detective told her. As soon as he had spoken, she relayed Jane’s message adding in that- given the time difference- they would be best to schedule a conference call in four hours’ time to avoid waking O’Neill too early.

 

Hanging up the call, Jane caught Maura’s eye.

 

“What’s up.”

 

“Harriet’s awake.”


	29. Connecting the Dots

“Hey” Maura’s tone was gentle as she walked into Harriet’s hospital room.

 

“Maura”. Harriet croaked, her throat sore and weak from days of silence.

 

“How are you feeling, Harriet?” Maura watched her friend’s eyes as Jane walked into the room, reaching out a hand to stroke her reassuringly on the arm.

 

“Awful.” They laughed, relieving some of the tension.

 

“Harriet, we don’t mean to pry, but the investigation into… all of this… is still going on. What’s the last thing you remember?” Maura chose her words carefully, trying to balance her friend’s medical needs with the urgency of their search for the truth.

 

“Tea. He… gave… he gave me tea.” The sentence took Harriet much longer than usual, her shoulders sinking in relief as she reached the end. “Now this.”

 

“So the last thing you remember is drinking tea? Who offered it to you?”

“Professor Kaplowitz.”

 

“Harriet, we also need to know why you went to him. He… something obviously spooked him. What did you say?”

 

Harriet winced as she pushed herself up into a better position, her ribs still bruised from her treatment. “My emails. With Uxbridge. Everything you need to know is there… I ... I wanted to be sure before I told you. In case I was wrong.”

 

Maura rubbed Harriet’s arm gently, noticing her becoming upset. Looking between Maura and Jane, her eyes brimming with tears, Harriet spoke again.

 

“I’m so sorry”.

 

Jane shook her head. “You don’t need to apologise. Look, you’re safe. You’re _alive_. Your job is to recover while we try and catch this guy. Can you do that?”

 

Harriet nodded.

 

Picking Harriet’s mobile phone out of her bag, Jane placed it on the historian’s bedside table.

 

“If you need us, anytime, call us. Okay?”

 

Nodding, Harriet sank back down into her pillow.

 

“Now, you get some rest.” Maura asserted, gathering her things. “We’ll be back to see you tomorrow.”

 

//

 

The midday sun burned bright through the long windows of the police headquarters as Jane and Maura returned to their task. Pulling a salad and a hot sandwich out of a deli bag, Jane settled into her seat and began to read.

 

“Wow, this guy went deep into the records! Vladimir and Elias’ birth certificates, census registrations, immigration documents… From what I can see, Vladimir was born in Poland and moved to England in 1938- he would have been seventeen at the time. He appears to have been recruited to some form of translation unit, but not at Bletchley.”

 

“No, but he must have been there at some point.” Maura suggested, sliding a photograph across the table.

 

Picking it up, Jane gave the doctor a confused look.

 

“Behind the cabinet, on the table.”

 

“That’s Mercurius!” Jane exclaimed, pushing herself away from the table as she rose to her feet.

 

Maura nodded. “The original.”

 

//

 

“So he stole it?” Detective Greenly paced the room as he listened to what Jane and Maura had uncovered.

 

“We think so” Maura continued. “There’s a gap in the timeline- between 1944 and 1946. If he knew that the machine existed, that would be when he took it.”

 

“And did what with it?” O’Neill’s voice rang out from the speakers, his face projected onto a large screen at the end of the room. “What happened after that?”

 

Jane leaned back in her seat, the cogs in her mind still turning, still trying to work out every question left in the case.

 

“Sir?” She spoke up after a moment. Both Greenly and O’Neill appeared to look at her, waiting for her to continue. Looking across the room, she caught O’Neill’s eye on the computer screen. “You have higher level access that we do. I… I’ve got a hunch. I mean, it might not be the right idea but I think we need to try and…”

 

O’Neill held up his large hand. “I trust you, Rizzoli. Go on.”

 

“Sir, could you do a wider search for Vladimir Kaplowitz? The information that we have is all from public access archives. The surveillance photos are they key here- he must have been involved in something.”

 

“I’ll get my guys to look into it for you, and I’ll call you as soon as I have anything new. Look, you guys have been working really hard. This is a tough case, and there’s no way we could have done any of this without your help. Losing Rachel has been tough for all of us; I’m so grateful that you guys were there to pick up the pieces and join the task force.”

 

Jane and Maura shared a smile as the agent spoke.

 

“I know Greenly will probably kill me for saying this, but you all should take the rest of the day off. I’ve got my guys looking for Kaplowitz Junior and Senior. Take some time to relax. I need you all back and ready tomorrow; this isn’t going to be an easy win.”

 

//

 

Walking out of Oxfordshire Police headquarters, Jane watched as Maura paused, uneasy, in the doorway.

 

“What’s up?” She couldn’t hide the concern in her voice.

 

“Just… Leaving in the middle of an open investigation. It doesn’t feel right.”

 

“Maur, we used to do it all the time. We wouldn’t have had a life otherwise! Why is this any different?”

 

Letting out a deep sigh, Maura shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s the Harriet connection, or the fact that we haven’t got our usual team to back us up. I… I just worry that, if something goes wrong, the people we trust the most aren’t here to protect us.”

 

Jane nodded. “I get it. But we have to have faith in Greenly. And in the FBI.” Noticing her words weren’t having much effect on the demeanour of the blonde doctor, Jane took a deep breath.

 

“Look”, Jane shuffled her feet nervously, yet another tic that Maura had pointed out years ago. “I… I think we should make the most of our time off. We… I know we said that we wouldn’t talk about any of this” she gestured between them “until the case was closed, but maybe we should take the hint.”

 

Maura’s expression slowly changed from anxious to confused.

 

“What… what I’m _trying_ to say is, let me take you out for dinner. My treat. Let’s not talk about the case, let’s just be me and you. Like old times.”

 

“Like always.” Maura smiled, reaching out to take Jane’s hand. Noticing that the tall detective didn’t flinch, Maura felt a rush of warmth through her body.

 

“Dopamine.” She commented as they walked towards the city, a firm smile stretched across her glowing face. “Very cool.”


	30. Reprieve

 “This feels oddly familiar” Maura commented, following the waiter as he showed the two women to their table.  Sliding into the leather-backed chair, she smiled as Jane sat down opposite her.

 

“I’ve missed it. I... I missed this as soon as we left Boston. It just feels… normal”. Jane’s honesty was helped by the cold beer pressed in her linked hands. “I like it.”

 

Maura took a sip from her wine and nodded. “Me too.”

 

There was a comfort in being alone, just the two of them, Maura thought. She had noticed the sense of loneliness, of loss, as soon as Jane had begun to pack up the many items she had left at Maura’s place over the years. Objects, inconsequential by themselves, had crept into crevices, onto shelves, into drawers and cupboards. The house felt empty without them. Without her.

 

“You know” Maura began to speak, the wine loosening her lips, “I have made two cups of coffee every morning for over four years. I can’t help it.”

 

Jane moved in closer, her dark eyes reflecting the light of the small candle sat on the table between them. “For me?”

 

Maura nodded. “It… it’s a habit, I think. When I’m not quite awake, my mind automatically assumes that you’re close. That you’ll be by. I… I don’t think I’ve ever considered the idea that you _won’t_ be there. Even… even when I was with Jack, there was always a cup for you.”

 

“Maura” Jane’s voice gave away her embarrassment, “I never knew. I… I guess I never thought about it.”

 

“Because it seemed natural. It was our normal.”

 

Jane seemed to take in Maura’s words slowly. Reaching out, she gently stroked her thumb over the back of the doctor’s hand.

 

“I like our normal”.

 

“Me too.”

 

Taking a moment to watch Maura sip delicately from her merlot, Jane smiled. Something about being close to Maura relaxed her. She was comfortable, kind, loyal and Jane couldn’t be prouder to call the beautiful doctor her best friend.

 

“You know” she broke the silence, watching as Maura’s long eyelashes fluttered upwards, the candlelight casting a shadow on her porcelain cheek, “the weirdest thing is that this doesn’t feel weird at all.”

 

Nodding, Maura took another drink. “I agree. I… I was anticipating at least a little bit of tension, but this is good.”

 

“It is.” Jane looked over as the waiter approached their table.

 

“It is.”

 

Conversation flowed between the two women as they ate, just as it always had done. From Maura’s mother’s exhibition in Geneva, to Jane’s ‘best woman’ speech ideas for Frankie and Nina’s wedding, the two women laughed through the first course.

 

“So,” Jane began a new conversation with a mischievous smile, “how much extra reading have you done on this whole ‘secret code’ thing? I’m sure you must be at about the level to produce your own doctoral thesis, Dr Isles.”

 

Blushing under Jane’s playful gaze, Maura looked away bashfully. “Come on”, Jane reached into her pocket for a pen before sliding it, on top of a napkin, across the table. “Teach me.”

“Okay, so let’s start with the normal alphabet.” Maura wrote the 26 letters across the white napkin.

 

“Expertly done, doctor”. Maura rolled her eyes at Jane’s comment.

 

“Okay, now we need a key word. A word that only we know. The key word is what we use to transform the alphabet.”

 

Both women took a moment to think.

 

“Jo Friday” Jane said finally. Maura smiled.

 

“Perfect. So now Jo Friday goes at the beginning. Every letter we haven’t used in our keyword goes in order, after the final letter. Look, I’ll show you”.

 

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

J O F R I D A Y B C E G H K L M N P Q S T U V W X Z

 

“And now we use this alphabet?” Jane asked, trying her hardest to work out the pattern Maura had demonstrated.

 

“Yes, you could simply use it like this. That’s a substitution ciper. Or, if you wanted to go more advanced, you could use a number of different methods. Here.”

 

Using the transformed alphabet as a key, Maura quickly wrote down her coded message. Before Jane had time to solve it, she rearranged the letters.

 

“Here.”

 

B Q I B   
H L U K   
B T I A   
Q P K Q

 

Picking up the pen, Jane’s tongue peeked out of her mouth in concentration as she decoded each letter.

 

I  S E I

M O V N

I U E G

S R N S

 

“That isn’t a thing!” Jane exclaimed, sinking back into her chair in defeat.

 

Looking across at her, Maura smiled kindly. “Read it downwards.”

 

“I Mi… I miss…. I miss our evenings!”

 

The solution came out far louder than Jane expected, earning a giggle from Maura.

“Me too” Jane lowered her voice. “Okay, it’s my turn.”

 

 T X O

P G D

H G D

 

“U… R… Okay. You are. I get that. Myl… Nope.” Maura shook her head, and refocussed. “My L… My LLBFF!”

 

“Life long best friend forever seemed like a lot of letters.” Maura smiled gently, meeting Jane’s eyes.

 

“Jane…”

 

“Look”. Jane held her hands out, her scars prominent. “I know I’ve been an ass. I’ve said some awful things. I… I think we both have but I’m happy to take the blame for this one. I walked away when you needed me.”

 

“Jane, we really don’t have to…”

 

“No. I need to say this. In case, tomorrow, everything goes crazy again. Like it usually does. I adore you. I… I know it’s taken me a long time to come to terms with things, but I know I feel more for you than I ever have for another person. I’d never be able to do this in a restaurant full of people if I was talking to anyone else. But I know you, Maura. I know how we work together, and what it feels like to be lucky enough to have you in my life. I’m not prepared to give that up. Not after we’ve been through all of this together.”

 

“But I don’t know what the solution is. You live in DC. I… I don’t.”

 

Jane shook her head, reaching out for Maura’s hand. “Look, as soon as this craziness is over and we’re back on US soil, we’ll work something out. All I know is that I’m curious to know where this will go, and I’m not willing to risk losing you again.”

 

“And what do you propose we do for now?” Maura breathed deeply, feeling her emotions battling in her chest.

 

“Well, O’Neill has given us one night of freedom. I propose we pick up another bottle of wine, find a documentary- of your choice- on Netflix and fall asleep still fully clothed. How does that sound?”

 

Maura’s cheeks dimpled as she smiled.

 

“It sounds perfect.”

  


	31. Family Ties

The shrill ringing of Jane’s phone woke both women early the next morning. Taking a moment to adjust to her surroundings, Maura rolled her shoulders and stretched her neck. The heavy, patterned curtains let through just enough light to hint at the early hour, Maura guessed no later than seven. In her post-slumber haze, the doctor focused on Jane’s movements, feeling the bed dip as her Italian partner moved to answer the still-ringing telephone.

 

“Good morning, sir”. Jane’s voice was smokier in the mornings; low and rough. Laying in the large hotel bed with her eyes partly closed, Maura lost herself momentarily in the familiar sound of the brunette’s tone. The deep velvet voice coated her body with a satisfying sense of comfort, of home.

 

“Of course.” Jane paced the room as she spoke, feet padding lightly on the thick hotel carpet as she took in the words of her superior. “We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

 

Hanging up the call, Jane looked across at Maura. Now propped up against plush, downy pillows, she brushed honey waves out of her face. The warm, soft light of early morning seemed to enhance her already dewy complexion into a mesmerising glow.

 

“Hey”. Maura smiled at Jane’s greeting, running a hand through her hair.

 

“We.. uh. We need to go. O’Neill’s guys have got something.”

 

“Okay. I take it there’s no time to shower?”

 

Jane shook her head. “He said it’s important.”

 

//

 

The two women arrived at Oxfordshire police headquarters to find every member of their team assembled in front of a large screen in the conference room. Special Agent O’Neill’s voice boomed through the speakers arranged on the wall.

 

“First off, I need to thank you for all you have done. This case has been unusual for us all, it requires a team on the ground to deal with local problems, plus a task force of international players to bring down the bigger group. Now is the time we come together. We need all of you on the same page. Is that understood?”

 

Around them, uniformed men and women nodded.

 

“We have- at the request of detective Rizzoli- looked further through our systems for evidence of Vladimir Kaplowitz. What we have found changes everything.”

 

The anticipation in the room was palpable. Beneath the large, wooden table where everyone sat, Maura reached for Jane’s hand and held it tightly.

 

“Vladimir Kaplowitz was a government- employed translator during the war. He was Polish, which meant that he would have been one of the earliest employees involved in translating messages for the allied forces.”

 

Jane turned to look at Maura, who was focused intently on O’Neill, taking in every word.

 

“Kaplowitz senior, at some point in the final years of the war, learned about Operation Mercurius. Learned that the British were making a machine to rival the communications of Enigma. From the surveillance photographs that Maura and Jane found in Harriet Morgan’s possession, we now know that he did, in fact, take the original Mercurius machine from Bletchley Park and travel with it back to mainland Europe.

 

Now, he did not return to Poland. From England, he travelled with the machine to what was then known as Yugoslavia. And, by marrying a beautiful young woman named Magdalena Nikolinovic, he found himself wound up with one of the biggest organised crime families in Europe- the Yugoslavian Mafia.

 

The Yugoslavian Mafia families drifted apart during the wars, but the largest faction is known to have settled in Serbia. Our organised crime unit, with the CIA, have monitored this group and their communications for years. In 2008, their bosses were sentenced to life in prison and things went quiet.

 

We believe that the Serbian Mafia employed Vladimir Kaplowitz for his communications knowledge. When he died, he left a legacy and his son took his place. Even as an academic in England, the mafia ties are stronger than any bond.”

 

“So do you think Elias Kaplowitz believed his father invented Mercurius?” Jane asked.

 

“It’s possible. What we do know is that finding Martin Richards, and his machine, would have allowed the Serbian mafia to communicate without danger of interference.”

 

“So he was tortured and killed for an organised crime family to have an easier life? That’s unfair.” Maura spoke only to Jane, her disgust and confusion at the logic of the situation evident in her expression.

 

“We believe” O’Neill spoke again. “We believe that Elias Kaplowitz was used, possibly under duress, by the mafia to find this machine. He… he is not a trained killer but he is dangerous. Despite everything, he will do as the mafia- his family- tells him to do.

 

We are closing in on this. Right now I need you guys, as a team, to do everything you can to find Kaplowitz. We are closer to the Serbian mafia than we have been since 2008. But we need Kaplowitz alive to take us to them.”

 

After a quick goodbye, O’Neill’s call went dead.

 

“Okay” Jane stood up, addressing the room. “So we know who Kaplowitz is. Where he came from. We need people tracking his car, his finances, his phone.” A group of detectives and technicians stood up. Turning to face them, Jane spoke again. “If you need anything- manpower, time- call Nina Holliday at Boston Police Department. Tell her I sent you.”

 

The tension in the room was palpable, the anticipation building. Rubbing her now-sweating palms on her trousers, Jane turned back to the people left in the conference room.

 

“Martin Richards was killed because he was in possession of something the mafia needed. Kaplowitz- we assume- was not alone when he tortured and killed him. But, since then, the use of poison tells us he has been acting alone. The bodies haven’t been hidden, haven’t been moved. Since he had Mercurius, I am going to theorise…” Jane looked across at Maura, who winced at her use of the word. “I am going to theorise that the mafia instructed him through the codes. Is someone able to go back over everything we found on the SD card? We need every detail.”

 

Maura watched Jane take control of the room. It was clear now why so many people felt intimidated by her. She was a powerful woman, with determination and drive. It was, she had to admit, incredibly attractive.

 

“Maur”. Jane’s voice brought her back into the present. “Do you have a pen?”

 

Pulling a pen out of her bag, she handed it to Jane who immediately began drawing a series of arrows and names.

 

“Kaplowitz killed Martin Richards for the machine. We… we know Rachel was there, that she found him. I’m going to assume that she saw more than she let on. That she was there as he was being tortured, or as the murderers were moving evidence into the property.”

 

Jane drew a heavy line between them. “I… I don’t know if you agree, detective,” Jane looked at Greenly, who had been standing watching her as she managed his team, “but my belief is that Rachel’s death was a tragic case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

 

“We need to check the SD card communications” Greenly answered matter-of-factly. “I’ll check.” Pausing at the door, he turned to Jane with a smile. “Excellent work, Rizzoli.”

 

“Do we have the tox report on Harriet yet?” Maura asked Jane once Greenly had gone. “I… I’d like to do something to help. If we have the report, I can work out what was used to poison her. It might lead us somewhere.”

 

“I’ll get it for you” Jane turned to her and smiled. “I… I think this might be it, Maura. I think we’re going to find him.”

 


	32. A Visitor

The early Autumn sun cast a warmth over Harriet Morgan’s crisp, white hospital bed sheets. With her eyes still half closed, she tuned into the now-familiar sounds of the equipment surrounding her. She no longer relied on oxygen, or on brain wave scanners to monitor her consciousness. Still, her heart monitor and IV drip remained close by, wires trailing under the covers to connect the machines to her skin.

 

She had learned to find comfort in the calmness of the mid-morning. The time between breakfast and lunch involved very little interaction with hospital staff, and most visitors didn’t arrive until the afternoon. It was the perfect time to nap, to recuperate and to gather her thoughts.

 

The last few weeks had been a whirlwind. From losing a dear friend to waking up in a hospital bed after being poisoned, the journey to finding justice for Rachel had not been easy. Maura’s arrival, and subsequently Jane’s appearance, had further complicated things. Harriet adored Maura, she had for a very long time, and considered her to be one of her most trustworthy friends. Their history was complicated; there had always been feelings of attraction between them, but there had never been feelings involved.

 

The term ‘friends with benefits’ didn’t quite fit their dynamic. Their trysts weren’t borne out of want or need, but more out of frustration. There was an implicit understanding between them that they could, if they were both single, turn to the other to distract them from the bigger picture. Harriet wondered if it was a consequence of their student years, where exam nerves were placated with gin and late-night study sessions were- against Maura’s protests- abandoned for house parties and trashy television. Simply, now the alcohol had been replaced with sex.

 

Jane complicated matters. From the moment Maura uttered her name, Harriet knew that there was something special between them. Seeing them together confirmed everything; Maura would die for Jane, and Jane would kill for Maura. The difference in her friend when Jane was around was noticeable. Maura, usually so professional, so put together, so classy, could be persuaded to drink beer, to actively watch sports. She cursed in frustration, laughed out loud and shouted this woman’s name down the street in the night. Maura was free, light, when Jane was around. There was no way Harriet was going to stand in the way of what was clearly a very special relationship.

 

In her mind, Harriet’s thoughts wandered as she thought about the relationship between Jane and Maura. It made sense. She just hoped, since she was cooped up in a hospital out of the way, that the two of them had taken the time to confess their feelings to one another.

 

The click of the latch on her door pulled Harriet away from her thoughts. A small, smiling nurse walked into the room and glanced at the monitor still attached to Harriet’s chest, waves depicting her steady pulse.

 

“Everything okay?” The nurse asked as she quickly checked the equipment and marked the chart in the corner of the room. Harriet nodded.

 

“Fine.”

 

“Are you up to a visitor?”

 

Harriet nodded, sitting up slowly in her bed and brushing her hair out of her face. The nurse opened the door wider and gestured for the visitor to walk into the room.

 

“Maura.” Harriet smiled at her friend, who was dressed in a stunning blush-coloured dress and matching heels. “You look lovely.”

 

“Thank you” Maura sat down, her legs crossed daintily at her side. “I… I picked it up on the way here. We… we had a busy day yesterday and my office wear was rather crumpled.”

 

“Well, regardless of your excuses, it looks great. Did… did you need to speak to me about something?”

 

Maura pulled a folder out of her bag. “I wanted to see you anyway. I like to check you’re getting the best care.” Harriet smiled as Maura looked down bashfully.

 

“I am. Thank you.”

 

“I’ve just spoken to your doctor- I have the tox report. I know what poisoned you.”

 

Harriet turned her body as much as she could, taking in every word the blonde doctor said.   
  
“Letarade. I hadn’t come across it in a victim before. It’s not commonly found in the US or the UK, but there are a number of cases in eastern Europe. It links in with what we already know about Kaplowitz- where he came from and who he’s working for.”

 

Harriet took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “I… I just want this to be over. Too many innocent people have been hurt.” Feeling herself becoming emotional, she squeezed her eyes. “It’s not fair.”

 

“I know.” Maura’s soft voice was reassuring. Reaching out, she took Harriet’s hand in her own. “We’re doing everything we can to find him, okay? This isn’t going to go on forever.”

 

Harriet nodded and slowly opened her eyes to meet Maura’s.

 

“Now, let’s think positively. I’ve spoken to your doctor and he’s agreed that we can go for a little walk with your drip. There’s a shop next to the family lounge at the end of this corridor. Do you feel up to a visit?”

 

“I… I can try.”

 

Rising to her feet, Maura walked over to Harriet’s bed and carefully peeled the heart monitor pads from her skin. The machine beeped continuously as the doctor fumbled around on the floor for the power socket. Flicking the switch, she looked up at Harriet and smiled. “It still surprises me every time that the English were innovative enough to put switches on their outlets. It makes so much sense.”

 

Harriet, dressed in a pair of comfortable pyjamas Maura had brought her from home on her last visit, swung her legs over the side of the bed and held onto the wall for support. Slowly, feeling a tight discomfort in her stomach and legs, she rose to her feet.

 

“Look at you!” Maura said with a smile, reaching out a hand to help Harriet steady herself. “Now take it slow, I’ll walk backwards so you can concentrate on where you’re going.”

 

“Maura.” Harriet’s eyes focused intently on the doorway.

 

“That’s it. A few more steps and we’ll be out the door.”

 

“Maura.” Her eyes widened, her forehead straining.

 

“Take your time. I’m here. Are you in pain?”

 

Taking a step back, Maura felt her back press into something solid. A strong arm reached around her small frame and threw her to the floor.

 

Looking up through rapidly fading vision, her head pounding and spinning, she was faced with the sight of a suited man she had met only once before.

 

Trying her best to sit up, she watched as the man’s leather-shoed feet strode across the room towards the still-standing Harriet.

 

“MAURA!”

 

Everything went dark.


	33. Kaplowitz's Confession

The room was spinning.

 

Maura tried her best to focus on the dark figure in front of her, silently willing her eyes to process what she was seeing.

 

Her heart raced as she swallowed harshly, trying her best to quash the panicked thoughts in her mind. She had been here before; this trauma- tied by her hands, forced into the corner of a dark room- was all too familiar. Bile burned in her throat as she fought the nausea caused by her head injury. Turning to her side, she tried her best to focus on Harriet.

 

Harriet sat slumped against the whitewashed hospital wall, strands of her messy hair brushing against the patterned curtains of her private room. Maura thought quickly, assessing every aspect of her friend’s wellbeing. She was breathing, her limbs looked bruised but unbroken and her drip still protruded from the cannula in her forearm.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

Jane always told her not to aggravate a perpetrator. Speaking out of turn, she knew, was enough to get someone killed. But something about this man’s demeanour, the lack of certainty or fury in his actions, was enough for Maura to ignore the nagging voice of detective Rizzoli in her mind and speak up.

 

“What do you want from us?”

 

Professor Elias Kaplowitz, wearing the same dark brown, woollen jacket he had been sporting the first time they met, sat on Harriet’s hospital bed. His eyes darted between the two women, whose arms were tied with rough rope, quietly assessing the situation. Slowly, he opened his mouth and began to speak quietly, addressing them both.

 

“I didn’t want to do this.”

 

Harriet opened her mouth to protest, but a nudge and a discouraging glare from Maura was enough to stop her. They had to let him speak. It could buy them precious time.

 

“They... they told me what I had to do. To protect them. You understand that, don’t you?”

 

Maura nodded subtly, hoping the professor would continue.

 

“I regretted it as soon as I told them. I mentioned Martin Richards’ letter, and the machine, and before I knew it I was under their control. I… I drove out to the Milton Hotel. I knew Rachel, I knew she would be there so I said I’d meet her before the conference and help her go through her presentation. She was a nice girl, but she knew too much.”

 

Maura watched as Harriet closed her eyes at the mention of her friend’s name.

 

“She had been around the college, asking me questions and taking notes. I knew she wasn’t curious. She was suspicious. They told me to protect myself. Make it look like an accident. I… I thought of pushing her down the stairs but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. So I bought a bottle of Letarade with me and put it in her drink. I never went up to her room, but I knew she would die before the morning.

 

I… I used the name Marko Rusieuc as a cover. Just to buy me more time. The anagram was just a bit of fun, but I needed there to be someone else, some other explanation. They… they threatened to kill me and all of my family in Poland and Serbia if I didn’t comply. They were watching me, checking on me all the time. The Mercurius messages came every day- go here, speak to this person, change your car, destroy your clothing, kill this person.

 

They will kill my sons and rape my daughter if I don’t do as they say. I may not live with their mother, but they are my family and they are in danger.

 

That is why I have to kill you both.”

 

//

 

Jane paced the control room, listening in as officers and detectives began to piece together the final communications recorded on the SD card they had found in Victoria College.

 

“Detective Rizzoli” one of the technicians called her over to his station where he sat, running his finger down a long list of un-coded messages. “I… I think these are in Serbian. I can get the general idea of what they say from an online translator but I really would like a more accurate translation. Could you ask Dr Isles to look at them for me when she comes back?”

 

Jane nodded, taking the sheet from the technician’s hands. “I…” she froze, looking the technician directly in the eye. “When she comes back from where?”

 

“From the hospital. She… she took the tox report while you went over the details with the team.”

 

Jane felt panic rise in her stomach, nausea flooding her veins as her heartbeat pounded in her ears. “Wha… what time did she leave?” She clutched onto the hard, wooden desk as she spoke.

 

“About two hours ago, ma’am.””

 

“Shit.”

 

//

 

 The hospital room was dark as one of Harriet’s nurses approached the door during her rounds. Looking closer through the window, she saw that the bed was empty.

 

Turning around, she spotted another nurse walking towards her.

 

“Julia?” she called as the woman passed. “Has anyone taken Miss Morgan out to an appointment? Or for physio?”

 

Julia shook her head. “No. No, she should be there.”

 

“And do you know where the policeman is? He’s usually close to her door.”

 

“Dr Isles sent him for a break when she arrived.”

 

//

 

“Rizzoli! Panic alarm sounded at the hospital!”

 

Jane stopped pacing and pulled on her jacket.

 

Greenly grabbed his radio and began to send out orders to the county’s police. “I need incident response at JR Hospital. Gather in the west car park and await my instructions. This man may be armed, and is extremely dangerous.”

 

Turning to Jane he placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “We don’t do guns. We barely use tasers. But we are good at what we do. You need to trust us, okay? We’ll get him.”

 

Jane nodded her head, following the man as he walked out of the building and towards his patrol car. She tried as hard as she could to focus on the task at hand, on finding Kaplowitz and finishing this whole disastrous event once and for all, but the only name she could focus on was Maura. She needed to know she was safe. Maura mattered most.

 

“Jane! Let’s go!”

 

As the patrol car followed a line of blue, flashing lights and screaming sirens, Jane placed her hand over her heart and closed her eyes.

 

Please.

 

Please, God.

 

Save her.

 

Please.

 

Save Maura.


	34. The Greater Good

Maura sat silently, hardly daring even to breathe.

 

Across her eye line, she could see Harriet was fixed- eyes wide- on the man stalking slowly between them.

 

Elias Kaplowitz was a dangerous man. Maura knew, after every torturous minute he had put them through, that he was not about to let them go. He was controlled, dictated to, by a force much larger than any single person. His family, a family intertwined with a life of crime, meant everything to him.

 

Maura tried to rationalise as she sat, willing time to slow down enough for someone- anyone- to realise they were missing. It was only a matter of time before Kaplowitz unravelled and killed them both.

Although he looked dishevelled and distressed, Maura knew that Kaplowitz’ strength was in his mind. He believed that, for his family, his actions were for the greater good. He was fighting for his family.

 

Maura was fighting for her life.

 

Closing her eyes, Maura allowed her mind to turn to Jane.

 

Over the last few days, everything had changed between them. There was a new understanding between them, a knowledge that their relationship was more than platonic. That there were feelings- deep feelings- running between the two of them.

 

Maura let out a shaky sigh.

 

If everything ended today, would Jane know? Would she know how much she was loved?

 

//

 

As she walked up to the doors of the hospital ward, Jane Rizzoli tried to focus on the task in hand.

 

She was usually excellent at compartmentalising her life. She had shot herself, jumped off bridges and never spared a thought for anyone except the person she was trying to save. This was different. Maura _was_ that person. And it hurt.

 

Keeping up her mantra, Jane looked to the skies as she said a silent prayer for the doctor. _Save her. Please._

 

Harriet’s room was dark, but there was enough light coming through the half-closed blinds to illuminate the shadows within. Kaplowitz paced, his lean frame clothed in the traditional tweed jacket and corduroy trousers of a distinguished university professor. His hair jutted out at different angles, a sign that he had been nervously running his hand over his scalp for some time. It was a sign, one of many, that the man keeping Maura and Harriet hostage was unhinged.

 

There was no weapon in his hand. Nothing visible as Jane looked through the mottled, patterned glass. Pressing her hand to her earpiece, she nodded as she received information from the officers now reviewing the CCTV at the nurses’ station.

 

“No visible weapon, but there is something in his pocket. Proceed with caution.”

 

//

 

“You know” Kaplowitz’s quiet voice seemed shockingly loud in the small room, “as much as I love codes and ciphers, my historical interest doesn’t stop there. You,” he directed his eye line towards Harriet, “you and I share a secondary passion.”

 

Harriet looked across at Maura, her eyes suddenly wide.

“You can say it. I know you understand what I’m getting at.”

 

Harriet shook as she turned slowly to face Maura. “Poison.”

 

“Look at me when you speak.” The professor raised his voice. Maura’s heartbeat raced, pulsing in her ears.

 

“Poison.”

 

Kaplowitz nodded.

 

“In my hand there is a capsule. A capsule containing a lethal dose of varicilium.  When I release it into the air and you aspirate it, it will travel through your lungs and begin to shut down your nervous system. I spent a long time negotiating to get my hands on this; using it will be my finest moment.”

 

Watching the man closely as he spoke, Maura’s eyes were drawn to his pocket. As he spoke, he fumbled nervously as she imagined a bachelor might if he were about to propose and was keeping the ring in his jacket.

 

//

 

“Rizzoli. We’re right here. You and Peter make the first move.”

 

The door opened quietly, as Jane walked into the room.

 

Kaplowitz, still in the heart of his speech, didn’t notice the detective until she was right behind him.

 

“Left pocket!”

 

Maura shouted, causing the man to throw his weight backwards into Jane. The tall detective rocked backwards, but steadied herself by grabbing a handful of fabric, including the corner of his jacket, preventing the man from reaching his pocket.

 

“Cuff him!” Jane called, moving down until her hands carefully closed over the homemade release switch the professor had been keeping in his pocket. “And call in some kind of bomb or poisons unit; I’m not letting go of this thing until I know the poison has been destroyed or removed.”

 

The metal capsule dropped from Kaplowitz’s hand as his arm was roughly pulled behind his back and forced into handcuffs. “Grab it!” Maura shouted towards the nearest officer. “Grab it and take it outside!”

 

//

 

“I just want to make sure your blood pressure is normal, and to check there were no further adverse effects from the poison- even if it wasn’t released. Plus you had a nasty bump to the head.”

 

Maura rolled her eyes at the nurse. “I’m _fine._ One minor contusion to my upper arm. I’m not concussed, although I would like someone to check my skull for hairline fractures. I have had brain surgery within the last 12 months, but I’m happy to do this as an outpatient in a less busy hospital or wait for a more convenient time. I don’t want to take up any more of your precious time.”

 

“Well, that’s very kind but, as you know, head injuries can’t wait. I’ll ask one of our post-surgical team to come over and check the site of the surgery…”

 

The curtain twitched as Jane poked her head through, smiling at the blonde sat in the bed.

 

“Sorry. Bad time?”

 

The nurse shook her head and walked out of the curtained hospital bay, leaving the blonde doctor and the tall detective alone.

 

“How are you feeling?” Jane perched on the edge of Maura’s bed.

 

“I’m okay. I… I’ll be okay.” Maura smiled at Jane’s expression. “I _will._ He’s gone, Jane. There’s no more danger.”

 

Jane smiled, reaching over to brush her hand against Maura’s soft cheek.

 

“I… I didn’t know if I was ever going to see you again” Jane whispered, her sensitivity finally erupting through the hardened surface. Maura sat up, reaching for her hand and rubbing her thumb slowly over the protruding scar. “I… I’m so glad you’re okay.”

 

Reaching up, Maura smiled softly as she brushed away a tear from Jane’s eyes. “Me too.”

 

“You know”, Jane cleared her throat, “all I could think about was whether I would see you again. Whether you’d be alive. How… how I would live without you. I don’t do that. I’m a good cop, I know not to let my feelings get in the way and I can but, you…. You’re special.”

 

Maura nodded, holding Jane’s hand firmly.

 

“I… I love you, Maura. So much. And I just need to know that…”

 

Leaning forwards, Maura closed her eyes and pressed her lips softly against Jane’s.

 

Pulling apart, Jane rested her forehead against Maura’s and sighed deeply.

 

“You always have the perfect answer for everything.”


	35. Epilogue

“Shoes?”

 

“On my feet.”

 

“You only brought one pair?” Maura asked, aghast.

 

Jane shrugged, smiling at the smaller woman. “Well, I left in a bit of a rush if you remember!”

 

“Okay, fine. Do you have everything?”

 

Looking around the now bare-looking hotel room, Jane nodded.

 

“I think so. It all fit in that bag on the way here, so as long as it still fits I’m good to go.”

 

Maura picked up the holdall and passed it to Jane.   
  
“Well, checkout time is 11 and we need to be at the airport by 1 so I guess we’d better get moving.”

 

“I can’t believe we’re finally leaving. I feel like we’ve been here forever.” Jane ran a hand down Maura’s arm until their fingers intertwined. “I just hope everything stays the same when we get back home.”

 

Smiling, Maura reached up to press a delicate kiss to Jane’s cheek. “It will. We’re made of strong stuff.”

 

//

 

As they pushed Maura’s bags into the taxi outside the hotel, Harriet approached, laughing.

 

“I take it you did a bit of shopping on your last day?”

 

“Well, I needed to get some souvenirs. Plus some gifts for the guys over at the station.”

 

“I… I hope souvenirs doesn’t mean you’re going to leave it this long before we see each other again?” Harriet asked, shuffling from one foot to the other. Maura smiled and shook her head. “We’ll be back. Jane wants to come and see the sights. She’s got it in her mind that she’ll be the first person in history to make a palace guard laugh.”

 

“She… she’s good for you. You work well together. I… I hope our little _dalliance_ didn’t cause any problems. I really do wish you both well.”

 

Maura’s expression softened. “Thank you.” Pulling Harriet in for a firm hug, she spoke again.

 

“Now, please stay out of trouble. Don’t go out to dinner with any strange men without letting at least four people know where you are. And make sure to keep going back to Bletchley. Their Mercurius exhibit should be open in the new year- Rachel would be really proud.”

 

Harriet nodded, clearly fighting back tears.

 

“Jane!” she called over. Jane moved closer before pulling Harriet into a cautious hug. Checking that Maura wasn’t watching, she leaned closely and whispered one final message of warning to the young historian.

 

“I’m glad you’re okay. I really am. But I will never forgive you for what happened here. For what could have happened to her. And I never will. Now, I will be civil to you in front of her because I love her. But if you ever put her life in danger again, I will have you killed. I have eyes everywhere. Capiche?”

 

Harriet nodded, her complexion suddenly pale.

 

“Jane? Time to go.”

 

With one final glance towards Harriet, Jane climbed into the back of the city taxi.

 

“Jane…” Maura said in an accusing tone, “what did you say to her?”

 

Jane turned to Maura and smiled. “I know we said we weren’t going to hide anything from one another but, believe me, you don’t want to know… Anyway, we still have one thing left to decide before we get back to Boston and deal with my mother. What are we going to do?”

 

“We’re going to get on a plane and…”

 

“No. After that. What are we going to do, Maur? I don’t want to say goodbye again. I can’t.”

 

“Let’s take a couple of weeks to think about it. O’Neill told the FBI to give you extra leave, and the ME’s office seems to have been running just fine without me.”

 

“I guess that’s the thing. The world doesn’t fall apart when we’re not around. I… I think that’s a lesson we both need to learn.”

 

“So what do we do?”

 

“I think I’ll speak to the FBI when we get back. And you should think about what it is you want to do next. We’ll take a couple of weeks and, well, maybe we’ll both end up on a new adventure.”

 

“Together?”

 

“Together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank you all for your support and kind words. This story means a lot to me and, I hope, the R and I fandom will treat with respect the fact that I am a human with feelings when reviewing it as a whole. I hope to post more stories soon.


End file.
